I Bring The Thunder
by Kinkor the Knight
Summary: Sequel to "Standing Against, Standing Between." Away from Berk for the first time in their lives, Hiccup, Astrid, Toothless, and their new friends and allies find love, a quirky thief, civilization, and bigger revelations on their quest to thwart an emerging threat to the planet. They also find more than they bargain for in a powerful woman known only as The Alchemist.
1. Prologue

**Rights**: DreamWorks and such. Not me. Nope.

**Previous Story**: Standing Against, Standing Between

**Note**: I am _not_ summarizing the last story in this one. It was 500 freaking pages and a summer's worth of sweat. If you're here reading this before you've read my previous work, stop reading and go read that. This story will still be around when you finish.

**Author's Notes **(Yep, They're Back):

Sequelitis, here we come.

Nah, kidding. I hate it when people make follow-ups just for the cash or career. However, this new saga is going to be _three_ separate stories – two long ones and a short one in-between. It's just the way my story has panned out. Do I have a plan? Yes. Is it a good plan? Probably not. But unlike the writers of Lost (loved the show at the time, but they were seriously making it up as they went), I do know where I'm going and I'm sticking to my oh-so-impossibly-perfect plot (stop snickering).

Long story short, I don't expect my writing career to ever be a paying gig (well, again, there will be coffee money). But I have employment elsewhere and am fairly stable in the life department (or as stable as I'm likely to get). But it also means my writing time has been shortened. Also, life happens. I actually started this back in November 2011 and even now I only have twelve chapters finished.

So to not make folks think I up and died, I'm releasing these twelve chapters now (plus the prologue). They have been read and edited by a fine fellow and so the quality should be halfway decent. The prologue and the first chapter are up now. Chapter Two will be released this Friday (June 1st, 2012). As before, this will be a once-a-week deal on Friday mornings (_my_ Friday mornings, in California) This way, as my summer frees up, I can finish the rest of I Bring The Thunder while everyone else is reading. Hopefully I won't have too many delays, but, you know, life.

I would promise that subsequent stories won't take a year to be released, but I'm smart enough not to make such promises. They _should _take less than a year.

A few odds and ends before we begin:

* The short, "Gift of the Night Fury," is considered canon in my story even though it came out after Standing Against, Standing Between was done. The only real issue I can't reconcile is the names of the other non-Toothless dragons that they finally came up with (I'm sure that's an issue for many a fanfic writer). So we'll play insert-dragon-name-here and move on. It doesn't have much bearing on my storyline anyway… though I'm sticking with _my_ names, for the record.

* This story features a lot of original characters (OCs). Berk is behind us and the world beckons. If you're looking for any Berkians besides Hiccup, Astrid, and Toothless to show up, it's not going to happen this time around. Later on, though…

That's it. As always, hope you enjoy.

* * *

Prologue

Fog – a pirate's best friend most days, but not today.

The captain of the _Eclipse_ reasoned that he could open his mouth and take a bite out of the ocean mist, so thick it was. Gray swirls surrounded his ship and its two escorts, enfolding them like an affectionate octopus. The sea was as calm as a sleeping cow, the wind having abandoned the tiny fleet hours ago.

Like the rest of his crew, the captain was up on deck, bundled in heavy fur for the winter, and he had expected bad weather before they made it back to their winter base. The fog itself wasn't such a problem – fog was a constant companion to those who plied their trade on the coasts of Europe. In truth, fog aided them in launching attacks and escaping pursuit. Fog could help you eat for a month or avoid an executioner's axe… provided it didn't run you aground on a shoal just for giggles.

The shadow that followed them _was_ a problem, however. The ship-shaped shadow, one with an unusual bluntness to its hull. One that showed no sign of a mast or sails or anything remotely normal in the annals of naval locomotion. Bigger than the cog-class vessels that made up the pirate fleet, but as silent as the fog that sheltered it.

It had to be a ship. It moved with them, maintaining a dim outline amongst the billowy nothingness. There were voices to be heard, one that hailed them to stop and await an envoy. Not ghosts, and not hostile – not yet. How an envoy could navigate through this hazard was beyond the captain's reasoning, but with zero wind to power his sails he had nothing else to do but wait and see.

It made his men more than a little nervous, though no one whispered any nonsense about sorcery or Sirens or any nautical ghost stories. They were a practical bunch, though they gripped their swords and axes in anticipation of mischief. They knew the stories, and the stories were plentiful these days.

The North Sea coast was full of tales of dragons with riders on them, monsters made of bone, steel, or both; the Angel of Death making house calls, and some kind of fantastical battle that had taken place amongst the islands of Scandinavia. It scared anxious folk into staying close to their villages and homes, thus making piracy options poorer. It scared many a pirate as well, but pirates didn't have the luxury of staying home. Not if they wanted to eat.

Now, by chance or by destiny, one of those story-makers had found them.

The men at the ship's bow-mounted ballista had the weapon primed, the bolt's oversized head doused with oil for lighting. They'd be hard pressed to hit anything today, but the ballista's presence helped bolster the men's morale.

When they came, it was literally out of nowhere, landing on the deck like they'd fallen out of the sky, but as softly as if they'd floated down. A man and a woman, dressed in green button-free uniforms so dark they were almost black. The crew gasped and drew weapons as the pair calmly stared back at them, unafraid of the crew despite being outnumbered twenty to one.

The captain didn't identify himself at first, unsure of the wisdom of doing so. The man had a Far Eastern look to him, utterly bald and wearing a series of tattoos on his scalp. Symbolic ones, some kind of Oriental language perhaps. The twin swords harnessed to his back were of a make he'd never seen before, long and skinny but shiny like his mom's solitary set of silverware. This was no native to the North Sea. Light in build, he projected a feeling of menace with his stare alone, withering any man that dared to look him in the eyes.

The woman looked local, skinny, her stark white hair cut to a fingernail's width above her head. She had come weaponless, unless the length of chain wrapped around her right arm was supposed to be one. The chain shined like the man's swords, the metal too perfect for something as crude as chain links. She smirked at the men, her gaze egging them on. This one wanted a fight, and it was likely she would get one before this encounter was over.

"Which of you is Captain?" demanded the man, his Norse perfectly understandable despite a heavy accent. Norse wasn't the captain's native language, but no one sailed the North Sea without knowing it.

There were only two of them. Weight of numbers would settle a fight. Yet the Captain kept silent. It might have been their odd belts, leather straps with jewel-like stones embedded along their length. It might have been their utter confidence, the complete absence of fear. It might have been the enveloping fog and the unknown shadow nearby. It was probably all of the above. But the Captain felt that it was not safe to come forward, that it would be the last thing he ever did.

But pirates are not known for their undying loyalty, and the eyes of the crew began to fixate on him instead of the intruders. They wanted him to do something here, be the brave leader of men and scare off these interlopers. Instead, all they managed to do was rat him out, the Asian fellow spotting him with little effort.

The Captain expected one of those fine swords to greet him, but instead the man gave him a featly bow of respect. The woman seemed irritated with the gesture and didn't follow suit.

"I am Kong of the Alchemist," said the man as he finished his bow. "I bring opportunity to you and your crew."

A bit vague for a job offer. And…. Alchemist? No idea who that was supposed to be. Trying to appear unconfused, the Captain came forward and said, "And what opportunity would that be?"

"To be part of something great and powerful," said Kong. "To not want for food or riches."

"And how will your Alchemist do that?" said the Captain. "Is he sitting on a big pile of lead?" That got a few crewmen chuckling.

"Much will be revealed in time," answered Kong. "For now, we ask only two things – that those that wish to join us board our ship now, and that you will obey our orders without question."

Ah, the Captain got it now. This was a type of crew impressment. The pirates had some experience with such things. Usually _they _were the ones doing it. Brazen of these two to demand such actions without a flotilla of ships to back it up. Yet there was no laughing or snide remarking from the crew, or from the Captain. Something about these two, that shadow ship in the background…

But he couldn't just have them pluck his crew away, and he brought his best pirate-scowl into play. "Just like that, is it?" said the Captain. "You're going to have to do better to get this unsavory lot to join your ranks."

"The offer goes to you as well," said Kong without missing a beat. "As for doing better…" Kong turned to the woman. "Sheen?"

Sheen immediately slapped the palm of her right hand against her belt, the turquoise stone she touched abruptly glowing and glaring thorough the wafting mist. A few pirates drew their blades, expecting an attack. The Captain raised his hand and held them at bay, puzzled but not wishing to provoke the fight this woman wanted.

A few quiet seconds passed as the pirates murmured their thickheaded thoughts and the stone on Sheen's belt twinkled. Then something passed overhead, sending everyone's eyes skyward. Of course it couldn't be seen, not through the mist, but the shadow had blocked the sun for a brief second. A small shadow, probably a sea bird or…

Then everything went green. A horribly, putrid-colored green. Every part of the fog glowed with it, surrounded the yelling pirates and their ships with the hideous luminance.

The Captain's poise almost fell apart as he watched the source of the glow in action. The fog reflected the color – it was not the source. _That_ was a searing beam of light cutting down from the sky, blasting though the mist and causing it to part and fade where the light hit, as if dispelling the mist with its touch. The middle ship in the fleet, _Twilight_, took the full force of the odious light as it carved through the hull like a claymore through lard, wood and steel vanishing into the air in jets of gas and fumes. The men on the ship screamed and ran, jumped overboard, clung to any fastened-down object, as the light rapidly moved from port to starboard, turning a whole ship into two smoking, sinking halves.

Too awestruck to panic, the men around the Captain watched as the light winked out and returned the fog to its blissfully gray-and-white state. The hole in the mist collapsed as vapor filled the void. Then came the cries for help from the stricken _Twilight_ and the prayers and admonishments from everyone else.

"To come with us is to be on the winning side," commented Kong dryly, his partner smiling confidently at the pirates. "What better offer could you want?"

That was the last day the Captain remained a captain. Like his men, he packed up his belongings and prepared to board the phantom vessel, leaving his beloved cog to drift abandoned on the sea. He became a grunt for a nameless army, no longer a leader of men. Many captains would have gone down with their ships rather than lose their command, but not this one. He was a practical pirate – survival trumped ego every time.

* * *

The prolonged scraping sound of leather dragging on stone was the first indication of an unwelcome interruption, the noise seeping through the heavy oak door that separated the studious and intensely focused woman from the safe house's foyer, and thus the outside world. She looked up from her paper-strewn desk and eyed the door with irritation, not quite ready to get angry but certain she would get there shortly. She'd been over this so many, many times: the office was sacrosanct. You didn't bother her once she closed the door unless there was a herd of smelly barbarians about to make a house call or a tidal wave was about to grace her with new beachfront property. Anything less than that could wait until morning.

The meager candlelight in the room threw wavy shadows at the door as the predictable knock beckoned her to answer. Based on the strength of the knock, it had to be Norom.

She sighed and went to unlock the door, still irritated but deciding not to get angry. She trusted Norom wouldn't bother her unless it was _actually_ important. Most of the other men in her private army lacked the right gene to properly discern the importance of matters, relying on her and her lieutenants to make the calls. It was the way it should be – independent minds only created strife within the ranks – but there were days where nobody was willing to make a decision without her, like she had acquired an army of infants. Quite annoying.

The indecision was especially prevalent when they moved to a new location, temporary or not. The southern coast of Norway was growing colder and wetter as winter approached, and winter always made the men nervous. They would be shipping out soon, as she wanted to get back down to the Mediterranean Sea before the weather got truly onerous. She had done everything she had set out to do in this locale, including dredging up a certain special "something" from the sea floor. But until they shipped out, she still had to baby the men and reassure them that she didn't want to get caught hunkering down for months under a mountain of snow.

Norom didn't have that problem… typically. He was used to adapting on the fly, making executive decisions in her absence. Alas, she began to rethink her high opinion of him as the door opened and a bedraggled and odorous lump-of-a-man fell forward through the doorway, sprawled in front of her and groaning pitifully. Norom stood just outside of the room, his yellow-pupil eyes in a state of shock, his hands up in a helpless gesture.

"He… slipped," said the forlorn brutish man, wiping his grime-covered hands on his plain dark-green tunic. Capturing the sorry individual at her feet had been an inordinately messy affair, much of his attire stained with mud and grease. Not that Norom minded getting messy, but he wasn't the easiest guy to tailor, what with his oversized shoulders, hunched posture, jutting lower jaw and coarse peach-colored hair lightly covering every piece of exposed skin.

"Found him in the supplies," explained Norom in a bass tone. "He was trying to pilfer my tunic stash." He growled out the last few words. Every garment he wore had to be specially made, and those few tailors willing to do business with Norom made him pay extra for their silence.

"Did you mistake my office for the jail?" quipped the woman, "or is the camp expecting me to deal with every vagrant that tries to steal from us?"

"Take a look at who it is," said Norom, pointing a beefy finger at the semi-conscious trespasser.

She bent down and turned the man's face her way. It was hard to identify him at first, considering the layer of filth caked on his features and matting his jet-black hair, but then she saw what Norom was getting at. There were two sets of matching symmetrical scars under his closed eyes, fashioned like check marks on a scoreboard. Disfiguring oneself for a boost in image – how vulgar.

The woman snickered and stood up. "So it is. Your judgment was sound, as always. You may leave us. Your replacement tunic is on me." Norom smiled and closed the door behind him, leaving the woman and the prone vagrant by themselves.

She sat back down at her desk for a few minutes, desiring to get her design thoughts down on parchment before her visitor distracted her further. She listened to his groans as they changed octave and became more alert, the man slowly becoming aware of his circumstances. Even when he had pulled himself back to a standing position, she kept at her work rather than face him. She wanted him confused and off-kilter before she confronted him, so much the better to make him more compliant.

This was a game she was good at. She should be, after all these years of practice.

* * *

"Where am I?" he finally asked, once he realized that the woman working at the desk was going to ignore him otherwise.

"Not much further than where Norom encountered you," she replied, the pencil in her fingers putting one final touch on her newest schematic. She turned her head and stared at him intently, lowering her voice so that he didn't miss the seriousness of the situation. "You should be thankful that he abhors needless violence, or you'd be spending the next year in a house of healing with four busted limbs."

Not so long ago, he might have relished being in close quarters with a mousy-haired angular woman, whose lithe frame he could have tossed over his tall shoulders with little effort, whose emerald eyes seemed to sparkle even in the dark. Any other time, the muscular Viking would have pulled out his swagger and seduced this foolish creature, this lovely thing that thought she could intimidate him with bold words and bold stances. Even her plain clothing, covered in pockets and pouches designed for carrying paper and little tools, failed to detract from her alluring charisma.

But he'd had a few too many bad encounters with pretty packages to judge her at face value. She acted far too comfortable for someone knowingly occupying the same room, unarmed and alone, with someone of his nature. As pathetic as he might look right now, with his ripped clothes and wild hair and mud-encrusted skin, he still carried himself as a warrior and had the physical stature to back it up.

"I'm no thief," said the man defiantly. "I would've left barter. I only needed a outfit." He certainly did, considering how his pants were about one burst seam away from falling off his body. Too much time outdoors in poor conditions.

"Taking something that the owner doesn't want taken is still theft in most lands," said the woman, standing up and walking a few steps toward the vagrant. "But then, you Gunnarr are flexible on the concept of theft when it comes to taking others' belongings, isn't that right?"

The man's eyes narrowed at the perceived slight, then swam with confusion. "You know of my clan?"

"I've been keeping tabs on you, Cragfist of Clan Gunnarr," said the woman. "Wayward son of Stonefist, robbed of his right to be Chief after your father's death. Angry with your lot in life, you left your clan for parts unknown. That was only a month ago, but that's where the tales end." She smirked at him. "Clearly, the road has not been kind to you."

The man stepped back in dismay, shocked at the level of knowledge this woman had on him. "You've been watching me?"

"Off and on," she explained. "I've had my eyes on many things. Black dragons in the sky. Giant metal living islands. A man who fashions soldiers from the bones of the dead. And I've been watching you ever since you came to the continental shores and tried your luck at mercenary work, then farm work… then begging… and now this."

Despite some defiant bluster in his posture, Cragfist couldn't hide the shame of his new status in life. He averted his gaze and gritted his teeth, repressing his outrage. He knew better than to lash out – it would be the last thing he ever did. She had to have guards or hidden weapons or even deviltry at the ready should he try something violent. Despite his fall from power, he didn't have a death wish… though he was getting there.

The woman sensed his growing frustration, seemingly satisfied that she had hit a soft spot. "There are two ways for the tale of Cragfist to end. He can continue on this course, an outcast Viking with no friends and nothing left to do than to die of exposure out in the woodlands. A cautionary tale for louts everywhere. Or…"

Cragfist looked at her once more, sourness in his stare. "Or?"

"You can abandon the tale of Cragfist right now and start fresh," she finished.

"Start fresh? You mean start fresh underneath your command."

"Does that bother you?" she queried. "A woman giving you orders?"

"Not as much as it once did," said Cragfist. "But I don't know you from Tyr."

"Then know I am The Alchemist," she declared, performing a quick bow for the sake of decorum. "I'm on a recruitment drive, and I just about have all the willing souls I need. You'll do nicely, though I expect two things from you, both of which must be fulfilled if you wish to stay in my good graces. In exchange, you can expect two things from me."

Cragfist's mood wasn't any less sour, but he didn't say no either. He motioned for her to explain.

"You will give me any and all information I desire," she stated. "If I ask for the location of your clan's secret gold mine, you will give it. No secret you know is withheld, should I desire it."

"That's asking a lot."

"It is. Second, I'll have your servitude. What I ask of you, you must complete. You may question, you may even disagree, but when I give an order, it must be done."

"Sounds like I'm back home already," chided Cragfist. "And the things you'll do for me?"

"I can make you strong again," she said. "I can make you into a terror or a legend, your choice. I can give you what you need to regain everything you've lost, and then some." She said it so plainly that Cragfist knew she wasn't joking, but the laugh that burst out of his mouth wasn't from amusement.

"My father heard such sweet words as well," he countered. "It led to his ruin… and mine."

"Yes, the Necromancer." The Alchemist nodded, trying to build empathy with the Viking. "I'd imagine that you wouldn't initially trust someone making similar claims as that one. So perhaps we'll focus on the second thing I can give you, and you can build faith with me."

She moved off to a stack of wooden boxes piled near her desk, almost a dozen long rectangular storage crates with unreadable markings etched on the sides. The top box had its lid pried off. The Alchemist reached inside it and pulled out a sheathed weapon, a small one along the lines of a dagger. She tossed the weapon to Cragfist with hardly a thought, as if absolutely trusting her visitor not to run off with it or immediately use it on her,

"The ones that wronged you, Cragfist, are not safely back at Berk feasting and dancing," she explained as Cragfist extracted the dagger from its sheath and held it up to the wavering candlelight. "They're out and about, and their paths may collide with ours given adequate time. You will have the one thing you so dearly desire, as well as the tools to make it happen."

Cragfist found himself wonderstruck by the shine of the exquisite blade, the glint of silver and something else extraordinary hiding within the steel. He'd seen such shine before, in a weapon held by someone he had hated all of his life. He had believed such weapons were gifts from the Gods, as rare as a warm day on the Isle of Frost. It could make a lesser man a monster on the battlefield… and it could make a true warrior invincible.

"I have a selection that you might find interesting," the Alchemist teased. "I'm sure you can find a weapon more your style. Something bigger, more manly, if you may."

Cragfist didn't need any more selling points to take the deal. What other option did he have? Even if he wanted to go back to stealing and begging, he knew the Alchemist wouldn't let him leave her camp alive. Not after she'd shared this little secret with him. There was a voice in his head, suffocated under layers of rage and discontent, that struggled to warn him about the same destructive path that his father had taken, trusting in outlanders with enticing dreams. It was easy to ignore that voice, as weak and garbled as it was, when he held true power in his hands.

A long-absent smile found its way onto his face as he pondered the many creative ways he was going to take his revenge.


	2. StirCrazy Blues

**Chapter One: Stir-Crazy Blues**

_Dear Dad,_

_This is… nothing like Berk._

_Well, we finally found_-_-_-_-

One sudden in-flight jerk later, Hiccup had ruined yet another piece of parchment, his pencil smearing across the page. Stubbornly, he decided to try again, hunkering down over the parchment in an effort to keep the wind and vibration to a minimum. He brought his pencil to bear and wrote:

_Well, we finally_…

Another jolt of turbulence sent his pencil through the parchment, the tip breaking off on the leather cushion underneath. Hiccup looked at his broken pencil and groaned. He had to whittle it down with his knife to make it useable again, and there was no way he was trying _that_ in mid-flight.

He tore loose the flapping piece of parchment, folded it up, and placed it into a pocket for later disposal, consigning himself to the tedium of the all-too-familiar patrol flight. No matter how much tinkering he did with the parchment-protecting travel kit he had installed on his saddle, he just couldn't account for all the variables – wind, jostling, moisture, a sudden urge in Toothless to barrel roll. It had seemed like a great way to utilize his time during long periods in the air, but while the world was ready for dragon riders it wasn't ready for airborne letter writing.

Hiccup hadn't gotten bored with flying… well, not completely bored. When he had someone to fly with, there was no boredom. When there was a new landscape to gape at or a herd of sheep to freak out or any number of wonderful distractions that came with flying on a Night Fury, there was no boredom. But when you were flying straight and level over terrain you've flown over a dozen times already, when the most hostile thing you've encountered in seven weeks was a hungry mosquito, and when all your companions had other tasks and duties, _then_ there was boredom.

The weather remained pleasant, a favor Hiccup relished as the noonday sun kept his wind-chilled skin from numbing too much. Despite being within an hour's flight to the Mediterranean coastline, their particular locale managed to get more sunshine than not, the rain clouds sometimes spitting and occasionally dumping on them but nothing like Berk's relationship with the wetness. If they'd been back home, they'd already be hunkering down for the long, long, _long_ winter. The Southern Mainland fall season could've passed for spring and he'd be none the wiser.

Below him, ample forests and open fields intermingled with barren, misshapen roads, simple farmsteads, and winding creaks and streams. While the south sported a faint patch of fog-coated sea in the distance, everywhere else was land, land, land, rushing by at heart-pounding speeds. It was beautiful countryside, though it lost some of its majestic allure after the fifteenth viewing.

Toothless kept fairly low in altitude due to the fact that most people saw dragons soaring high in the sky as something to talk about and the group needed to stay covert for now. Yes, it would have been better to fly at night. But this was a patrol – they had to see trouble coming, and night made that ever so difficult.

Considering how full Hiccup's days were, it would have been a great timesaver to write letters on Toothless's back. Toothless was so absorbed by his flying and watch-dragon duties that conversation had run dry… well, yeah, it always _was_ dry. Hiccup loved Toothless, loved him like a reptilian brother, but sometimes he wished he could speak through those retractable teeth of his.

Usually right after such thoughts, he'd then consider Arc and the things_ he_ said, and that was enough to make him glad his partner was a silent one.

Toothless was concentrating more than usual, his eyes forward and his expression one of intense focus. He was making use of one of Hiccup's rather brilliant ideas; a blast from the past that he had created during the first winter Berk had dragons, long before meeting Nestor and Arc and Saga. At the time, deep-seated guilt had motivated Hiccup to rectify his buddy's permanent weakness: his inability to fly solo. Toothless loved him. Hiccup knew that. Toothless had never given him guilt trips about the subject. Toothless had flight and food and family and a life that most dragons would probably envy. But it still ate at Hiccup, like a rat nibbling on your ear while you slept.

He had created a new tail attachment that was self-manipulating, matching Toothless's tail movements and mimicking his rudder almost perfectly. Toothless had loved it… and then he had smashed it into bits and pieces.

Friendship had come before independence. Toothless was happy to stay tethered to Hiccup, flying together as a team. Flying together as a family. Watching Toothless bash his new-and-improved rudder into oblivion had been one of the best moments in Hiccup's life. And Hiccup had never given it another thought… until now.

Life out on the road required a degree of pragmatism. _A downed dragon was a dead dragon_ – that used to be spoken as a battle tactic. Now it was a warning. Should Hiccup get separated from Toothless, should anything happen to him, Toothless was stuck on the dirt. In Berk, with plenty of other Vikings to care for him, that wouldn't have been a problem. Out in the wide world, among people whose degree of trust in dragonkind depended on the exact length of the spear in their hands, Hiccup couldn't afford to take that chance.

Duplicating the self-regulating tail hadn't been too difficult, but Hiccup had added a new linkup to the tail rudder. The prototype apparatus was only a couple of days old and naturally some adjustments were required, but so far he hadn't had any of those spectacular accidents that his previous devices had wrought. When the new linkup was disengaged, Toothless could maneuver his false tail on his own. Engaged, it was business as usual.

Toothless had been reluctant at first. He didn't like worst-case scenario thinking any more than Hiccup, and he had actively prevented Hiccup from installing it by playing Catch-The-Dragon. It had taken some heartfelt coercion from Hiccup in order to reassure Toothless that this wasn't the first step to the dissolution of their friendship. It was only a safety precaution, nothing more.

Toothless did get over his doubt pretty quickly, relishing his recovered ability to steer on his own more and more as time went on. Today's patrol had been done almost entirely under Toothless's control… which made it sorta boring. Hence the letter writing attempts. Still, Hiccup didn't wish to disturb Toothless while he enjoyed his flying, didn't want to start talking about current events or future fears, so he had to settle for mentally writing one and hoping he'd remember the majority of it when they got back to their camp. He gazed out toward the distant ocean and let his mind drift around his memories of the last seven weeks:

We finally found a courier that claims he can get letters as far north as Berk, but we're all skeptical about that claim. Not too many trading ships go that direction. I'm telling you, we could make a killing hiring out our dragons for mail service to the rest of the world… and by killing, I mean money and not, you know, actual killing. So on the off chance that this letter actually reaches you, I thought I'd make it a lengthy one.

_You'll be happy to know that we're all still in one piece. Nestor and Arc made a lifestyle out of keeping to the wilderness, so we haven't had too much trouble from the Mainland people. We make it a point not to fly over castles and big towns and we camp away from civilization. I mean, we do **a lot** of camping. Did I mention that I miss my bed? Because I do._

_Again, I ask the question: why do we live so far north? It's almost pleasant around here… here being next to the Mediterranean Sea, not far from that place on our maps that looks like a boot. We did zigzag around for the first few weeks, following Saga's…_

Scratch that. Saga didn't want her real name getting spread around.

… _the Seer's vision path. Ever since that one head-splitting vision she had back in Berk, she's gotten snippets and impressions of where to go. We stop someplace, we wait for her to get a new bearing, and then we head off again to the next location. It's like she's following a mystical trail of breadcrumbs across the continent, only the trail ends at a world-ending disaster. Considering we have nothing else to go on, we're going to have to trust her instincts. _

_But then the trail went cold two weeks ago… sort of. The Seer thinks we're in the right place… or close to it… or within a hundred miles of whatever "it" is. But nothing new has popped into her head, no unnecessarily cryptic riddles or predictions of all-consuming death. We're kinda… stuck. _

_Which isn't to say that we're sitting on our hands, waiting for something to happen. It turns out that we weren't that far from a piece of land that Arc was very familiar with. It's nestled in the middle of a way-too-foreboding forest, complete with a rundown shack and all the wolves that may ever want to eat you. Good thing wolves aren't friends with dragons. _

_When I asked Arc if he had a backup plan should the owner of the shack show up unannounced, he gave me that smug knowing smile of his and said that the owner already has._

_Yep, turns out that Arc's full name is **Lord** Archibald. You know how some dragons are supposed to keep caves full of treasure, and how we all know that's a big lie spread by drunken Vikings? Well, there's a little truth to it. Hyperions don't do treasure, but they can do real estate. Arc doesn't want me to reveal much, but basically he has this racket going with a proxy human who serves as a puppet lord to his little track of land. He usually leaves it to the humans to do with it as they wish, except that it's pretty inhospitable territory and there's only a handful of humans who live within its boundaries. It's gotten overgrown (I've mentioned the wolves), and thieves tend to use it as a hideout. _

_So while Arc hunts down a contact that might help us out, the rest of us have been clearing brush, patching roofs, fighting the insect population, and patrolling the landscape for troublemakers. I'm certainly glad we traveled hundreds of miles just to work on chores we could have done at home. _

_Could you tell Astrid's parents that she's okay? She'd write them herself, but I'm still not sure **this** letter will make it to you. No sense in all of us wasting our time. _

_Despite the lull in the action, and despite my less-than-positive attitude, I am enjoying myself. I've managed to convert part of our shack into a…_

He was forced to put the rest of his mental dictation on hold when a series of cheerful greetings came to his ears. Lost in thought as he was, he hadn't realized that Toothless was right now passing by that one little muddy village on the outskirts of the forest. They typically gave it a wide berth – no sense in alarming their closest neighbors. But today, Toothless had accidentally steered too close, the farmers in the fields spotting his ominous shadow and looking fearfully up to the sky.

Not everyone was afraid, though. A small cluster of young, rag-clad children were running along one of the dirt paths, laughing and waving up towards Toothless as if he was the best thing ever. Hiccup recognized that particular group of kids from a previous patrol, only they'd been out a lot further from the village on some kind of adventure that kids do before they realize there are wolves waiting for them to do something stupid. They had waved and yelled enthusiastically, too young to think that a dragon was a threat. Especially when someone was riding the dragon and making him look like a noble steed. Toothless smiled at the innocent attention as Hiccup began to suspect that this flyover wasn't an accident. Toothless must have seen them and decided to have a little fun of his own.

"Okay, bud, you've had your fun," said Hiccup. "Why don't we…"

Hiccup yelped in surprise as the mischievous dragon did a barrel roll, rotating three complete times and making Hiccup grip his saddle in alarm. Hiccup felt Toothless slip a bit to the right, almost twisting the roll into a tailspin, the ground suddenly looking like their next destination. Hiccup had his hands on the linkup's switch and was about to use it in order to take control and get them out of the suicidal dive, but Toothless saw it coming and calmly wiggled the rudder to an appropriate position, correcting himself and leveling out gracefully.

The wild maneuver sent the kids into a happy tizzy, but freaked out a few of the adults. A pair of farmers attempted to shepard the children back to the village, one standing in front of the kids and brandishing his scythe like a shield in case the thing in the sky decided to come back for a snack.

"Crazy, showboating dragon," said Hiccup as they sped on. "They'll start spreading rumors about us, you know. Hope it was worth it to you."

The waggle from Toothless's head suggested it was.

* * *

Most of the lush evergreens surrounding the camp clearing were at least thirty feet high and densely packed, so dense that you could spend hours cutting a swath through their lower branches and only get a hundred feet. There was a trail that led out of the clearing, big enough for a human to squeeze through but nothing bigger, and it was easily missed. The best way to get to the shack was by air, making it the perfect home base for those lucky folk that had dragons at their disposal.

Most of the clearing was soft grass and loose patches of dirt, the few decaying logs that had adorned the outskirts reduced to firewood a week ago. The shack stood at the exact center of the clearing, a remarkably sturdy construction that had been built from the surrounding forest. Arc hadn't said much about its former owner, only that he'd been a cantankerous hermit who had found peace off in the middle of nowhere. Naturally, Arc had liked the guy. The hermit eventually passed on as humans do and Arc had moved right in, turning it into a place for those few human trappings and possessions he needed to keep handy.

Hiccup landed Toothless in front of the shack's newest addition, an open-aired structure with two walls and a roof that once sheltered firewood and other non-consumable-but-not-worth-stealing goods from the elements. All the goods had long since been used up years ago, so now it was Hiccup's newest workshop. The group recognized that Hiccup needed a place to do repairs and projects, since both he and Toothless had mechanical requirements to their lives, so there had been no argument over creating Hiccup's new smithy. The former owner had maintained a small-scale forge for maintaining his equipment, though a lot of his tools had rusted into scrap iron so that new ones had to be bought and flown in.

Toothless was already positioning himself just outside the smithy while Hiccup grabbed the tools he needed to detach the helmet-sized wooden gear linkup box from the rear of the saddle. That sudden loss of control during Toothless's show-off antics suggested some interference or alignment problem. Shouldn't be too hard to fix.

Turning around with tools in hand, Hiccup noticed Toothless had his head cocked to the south, his ears raised and on alert. Hiccup stopped to hear what Toothless was fixated on. The clank of metal on metal, accompanied by faint feminine grunts, told him that Astrid and Saga were continuing their daily sparring at the secondary clearing not far away.

"Those two are still at it?" he commented, Toothless shrugging to Hiccup's rhetorical question. They had started up their practice before he had left on patrol. That was four hours ago. They had to be exhausted by now. The sparring must have turned into a grudge match, though the only one with any potential grudge to grind was Astrid. Seven weeks of sparring with the Seer – zero victories. Hiccup shrugged as well and went back to Toothless, working a wrench into the linkup box and loosening it from the saddle.

"Still pulling to the right, bud," commented Hiccup. Toothless curved his neck around and stared at his rider, as if to say _And whose fault is that?_

"I'm just saying what the problem is," defended Hiccup. "No need to get defensive." Toothless could be surprisingly touchy about having his flying critiqued.

Once the linkup was free, Hiccup retreated to a workbench in the smithy and began to tinker with it. Toothless meandered to his own whims, sometimes watching Hiccup work, sometimes finding a grasshopper or butterfly to pursue in a playful non-lethal game of chase, and eventually finding a particularly sunny spot in the clearing to nest in and take a nap.

Hiccup lost track of time for a good hour, not noticing the lack of combat sounds or the footsteps approaching his smithy. He thought he had a finger on the mechanism's slippage issue when he heard a body plop itself on a nearby stool and slump against the shack's bark-encrusted walls. He knew who it was without looking, but her unusually quiet behavior at the moment made him look up from his device and glance over his shoulder.

While generous dabbles of sweat and grime coated her features, it was impossible for any amount of dirt to make Astrid look any less beautiful, though the tired frown she wore did worry Hiccup a little. _Discouraged _was the best word for her disposition, at least from what Hiccup could read of it. She had her eyes closed and her hands on her lap, her myssteel axe lying next to her. The fight must have taken a lot out of her… maybe too much.

Hiccup didn't really get it. From what he could tell, Astrid and Saga had become good friends and usually went off on patrols or hunting trips together, never with any sign of hostility or bitterness. But those sparring matches… those were something else. Especially the last two weeks, where they had a steady place to camp and spar. Astrid threw herself at Saga like a Nightmare on a bad mushroom trip, determined to finally win a match against the highly skilled Gunnarr outcast. Obviously, today's session had ended up like all the others, but unlike all the others Astrid's mood wasn't bouncing back.

Okay, what was he supposed to do? Let her be? That would have been the smartest course of action when he was Astrid's friend. But now that there was _boy_ at the beginning of that word, he figured he needed to be more supportive. Plus she had come straight to his workshop instead of chopping wood with her axe or wandering off to yell out her frustration. She had to be expecting him to do something.

He put down his tools, breathed deeply once as he prepared for some kind of outburst, and said, "So I take it things got… ah… intense?"

She didn't open her eyes, but she did lean forward, wiping her sweaty forehead as she did. Hiccup found himself scratching his chin as he tried to read her reaction, feeling the scratch of early stubble on his neck and face. At last, the Gods had decreed that he might gain some facial hair, though it was incredibly slow growing.

"Saga's not a pile of bloody limbs, is she?" he asked, half-joking and hoping he was nowhere close to the truth. "Because I'm not cleaning up the mess if that's the case."

Still no response from Astrid, no even a fidget this time. Hiccup was now thoroughly baffled, and he was growing concerned that something had occurred between her and Saga. It didn't help that Saga hadn't come back yet. Maybe it was just a fight and not a serious falling out. The two of them had been good for each other. Saga had grown a bit more human over time, less likely to go off on her own or act so cold around everyone. In exchange, Astrid had gotten scary-good with her myssteel axe and her clothing had changed to something more… Saga-ish. In order to avoid being pegged as Vikings in a part of the world that thought of Vikings as pillaging invaders, she had gotten rid of her shoulder guards and spike skirt, adopting a long-sleeved shirt more in line with Saga's type of garb. It allowed for freer movement in battle, but it also made her whole appearance more… approachable. Also, Hiccup no longer had to worry about getting punctured by her spike skirt when Astrid hugged him, which happened a lot - the hugging, not the puncturing.

Her boots were also different, but everyone's boots were different. The warmer weather allowed them to put away their fur-lined footwear and don lighter leather material. Hiccup had also gone with a leather vest instead of his fur version. Nestor had done a good job of picking out substitute clothing for everyone, since he had the most familiarity with the region's clothing trends and Arc couldn't care less about attire.

"As much as I love playing _Guess What My Girlfriend Is Thinking_," said Hiccup, "I'm going back to working on my doodad and letting you cool off. Please don't kill me for not being better at this."

He returned his attention to his box, warily listening for any movements from Astrid that indicated she was leaving or about to speak. But she still kept up her silent act and after a minute Hiccup got engrossed in his project again, figuring that Astrid just needed time. Which was why he was genuinely surprised when two strong hands yanked him off his stool and dragged him protesting out of the workshop and into the sunlight.

Astrid stopped pulling him once they reached a spot in the clearing where the grass had been trodden down by Toothless, making a visible ring. Toothless had moved on to another spot – in fact, the dragon was happily snoozing not far away, not even bothered by Hiccup's protests. The dragon had learned not to worry about Astrid's manhandling of Hiccup, a behavioral development Hiccup wasn't thrilled with.

"I want you to hit me," she stated to Hiccup, squaring off with him as if they were about to start fisticuffs.

"Um… ah… why?" he stammered. "Is this because I failed a boyfriend test or something?"

"No, just hit me," she insisted.

"You're going to beat me up," he replied.

"Hiccup, I'm not going to hurt you. Just hit me, okay?"

"No, I think you're going to beat me up," he responded. "And while I should be used to that by now, usually I know the reason why before it happens."

"Hiccup, I'm serious."

"So am I." Hiccup put his arms around his back to demonstrate that his hands weren't forming fists anytime soon. "What's going on?"

Astrid sighed and softened her stance, realizing that she might have come off as a little irrational. "Hiccup, it's time for you to learn some basic combat maneuvers. I mean, when was the last time you threw a punch?"

"Does swatting mosquitoes count?"

"You know what I mean."

"I'm a flyer, not a fighter," said Hiccup. "Besides, I do recall the last time I tried out some basic combat maneuvers and I remember sucking at it."

"That was dragon combat training. I'm talking about if someone comes up to you and tries to punch you in the face. You can't just curl into a ball and beg for mercy."

"It worked back home."

"Hiccup, you're overdue for this. Will you just trust me and hit me?"

_Trust me and hit me_ – that there was an inherent contradiction. But she wasn't going to explain what prompted this desire to teach him self-defense, not until he did what she said. Be a supportive boyfriend and just go with it, or dig in and demand an explanation first?

Hiccup let out a surrendering groan. Face it, he'd already given in the moment she'd asked him. "Okay, but I still think this is just an excuse to beat me up."

He did what he was told – he tried to hit her. One quick punch to the face. Of course, it didn't work, because it's not supposed to work like that. Instead, she caught his wrist, bent it at a sharp angle until he heard his joints crack, and dropped him to the ground. Yes, the "training" was about to begin in earnest.

Thankfully, he did have one weapon up his sleeve that she wasn't prepared for, and he deployed it before she even had time to think.

* * *

The wolf pack sensed he was there, their furry snouts looking his direction with mixtures of trepidation and caution. Close to a dozen of the beasts were rummaging through the forest one hillside away, a range of gray, brown and black coated predators on the trail of a herd of deer or other game, and they were keeping their distance from him. Best thing for all parties, really.

Nestor watched the pack run off into the thicker part of the forest, perched on a fallen tree and breathing a sigh of relief. He was relieved to see them move on after the last two days of finding loose fur and other signs of wolves skulking about. Dragons and wolves did not get along… at all. There were stories of wolf packs ganging up on lone dragons and getting into frenzied battles. You'd think that it would end badly for the wolves most of the time, and you'd be right, but sometimes the wolves got lucky and took out a wing or tail and grounded the dragon. After that, it was only a matter of time before the dragon became wolf chow.

Good thing that wolves had that sixth sense when it came to magic, a.k.a. Nestor's barrier field. It was one of those weird skills wild animals had that most humans didn't, that preternatural ability to sense otherworldly phenomena. Most animals considered it threatening and ran from it… not unlike most people. Good for avoiding tussles with predators, not good when it came to hunting game.

Satisfied that the wolves weren't returning, Nestor picked his way up the slope, treading carefully amongst the loose duff of the forest. The forest was in a happy space today, birds tweeting their songs and the bushes rustling with various rodents and other critters scrounging for daily nourishment. Nestor found himself sharing in the contentment – he was happier than he'd been in years, in all honesty.

Yes, there was the omnipresent reality of their mission, nothing short of the utter destruction of the planet at some point in the near future. But it just seemed so far away, like a nightmare that faded into obscurity upon waking. Right now, life was simple. Right now, life was shared.

Right now, life also needed supplies. It had been on his to-do list but driving the wolves off had taken priority. Nestor checked the sun's positioning and wagered Hiccup was back from his patrol by now. As Arc would be gone until tomorrow, the only other way to get to civilization was upon Toothless. Better get to Hiccup before he got engrossed in something.

Unfortunately, his efforts to peacefully repel the wolves had taken him farther away from the camp than he had realized. He spent the better part of an hour climbing through scratchy undergrowth and clinging branches, as well as mistaking a similarly-shaped hillside for their camp and having to backtrack downward again, before finding the clearing once more. Just before crossing the clearing's tree-strewn border, he spotted Toothless curled up in the clearing, dozing with nary a care in the world.

And not far away was Hiccup… and Astrid… on the ground… kissing.

Nestor kept his instinctive groan from escaping his mouth and backed off behind a nearby tree to give them privacy. This was starting to feel like a curse, always running across Hiccup and Astrid while they were being amorous. "Mood Killer Nestor" was practically his nickname now… and that had started off as his own joke. _Salo krebit_, couldn't they keep their mouths apart from each other for longer than five minutes?

He glanced around the tree to see how seriously they were into it. Pretty serious, apparently. Astrid appeared to have Hiccup pinned under her while they happily went about their business. Seriously, in the middle of the clearing? Maybe it was time for a team discussion about the rules of conduct.

Fine, he could give them ten minutes or so. There were still a few hours of daylight left. Besides, Saga was around here somewhere, and she could use some company… possibly… maybe… remotely…

He Shrouded himself and quietly circled the clearing, heading for the secondary spot where Saga and Astrid did their morning sparring. He couldn't help but grumble about Hiccup and Astrid, partly out of inconvenience… and partly out of envy.

The secondary clearing was covered in shadow, a barren stretch of moist earth fenced in by yet more thick and wooly trees, the ground marked in various places with sticks and rocks to demonstrate sparring boundaries. Nestor found the clearing a little on the chilly side; it almost never got any direct sun, and the ground could get awful muddy very easily.

Saga had found a decent-sized rock to make her meditation seat, and she currently sat upon it cross-legged, her eyes shut and her head bowed slightly. A meditative posture – she'd been doing it a lot lately, every day and any time she wasn't involved in some other task. It was how she got most of her visions or direction. Those crazy mind-stabbing episodes that hit her brain like an anvil were rare, few and far between. She had told him once that to listen for the future, you had to stop listening to everything else. So she meditated, hoping not for wisdom but for a cheating hint about oncoming trouble.

She looked downright peaceful today, failing to acknowledge his presence as he stepped into the training zone. He was still Shrouded, but that only made him hard to see. She had to know he was here. This was Saga – she lived two steps ahead of life itself.

Yet he hesitated in speaking as he crept closer. On further inspection, her face wasn't that peaceful. A frown scrunched her features, born from concentration or something she was seeing in the Seer world she inhabited. She didn't act in pain though, which was what happened when she got a serious vision. It looked more like frustration.

He almost decided to keep his Shroud up and tiptoe out of there, leaving Saga to her thoughts. But then the silence ended as Saga, her eyes still sealed, said, "Are you intending to stand there and stare, or did you have a matter to discuss?"

"Didn't mean to intrude," Nestor lamely explained, dropping his Shroud and walking up to Saga. "You seemed… occupied. Didn't want to disturb."

She opened her eyes at last, the frustrated expression fading as she regarded Nestor from her rock. "You stopped disturbing me a long time ago, Outlander." She saw the unhappy look on Nestor at mention of the unwanted title and realized her error. "Nestor, I mean."

"Everything okay?" he asked.

"What makes you ask that?"

"You only slip back to calling me Outlander when something's eating at you. Did you see something?"

She shook her head. "Quite the opposite. The same result as the last fifteen days."

She quieted again and stretched her kinks out of her neck as Nestor sat down next to her. The rock she used for a seat had just enough room for two people, but instead of hogging the rock she had sat to one side to allow for someone to sit next to her. More of that Saga foretelling magic… or was she just hoping for company?

"It bothers you, doesn't it?" Nestor probed. "Not having any idea what's in store for us."

"It bothers me because you are all out here based on my direction," she replied.

"I'd be out here anyway."

"But not Hiccup, Astrid, or Toothless. They had lives they left behind… on my word."

"Arc backed you up, remember?"

Saga chuffed at the mention of Nestor's dragon mentor. "Not out of any respect for my power. You see how he looks at me these days? It's as if he is gloating. He half-expected my powers to falter."

"You've hit a dry spell. It happens."

"Not this long, and not when we are so close to our destination." She looked at Nestor straight on, giving him a good showing of the degree of distress etched in her face. "It is like I am blocked, Nestor. As if the spigot supplying my visions has been stopped up."

Nestor hid his disbelief. Not that he was expert on these matters, but it sounded more like Saga ascribing an insidious plot against her instead of facing personal failure.

"Who's to say, Saga?" he questioned. "Maybe it means we know what we need to and we're on the right course."

"I do not share your optimism," she admitted. "All I know is that I could see a trail that led to this region, and that trail has disappeared. It was my job to find it, and I have failed."

"You're being too hard on yourself," Nestor reassured, briefly flirting with putting an arm around her shoulders and then thinking better of it. For a friendship that had come a long way from their kill-or-be-killed roots, it was still impossibly hard to judge what was acceptable closeness to Saga. Nestor remembered the time a wasp had dared to flit around Saga's unbraided hair, exploring her for whatever wasps find edible. One dagger swipe later, the wasp had fallen to the earth as half of its former self. She hadn't even been looking its direction.

"Right now, there's an eleven-century old dragon tracking down a potential lead," he went on, "and he seems confident about it. He's also clever, which is reassuring. I think you should take a breather for the rest of the day, relax. Wait to see what Arc digs up before you start pushing yourself again."

Nestor thought he had convinced her to take a break, as she paused to mull around the idea. But she quickly frowned and closed her eyes once more, obviously dismissing the notion of rest.

"You did not see what I saw, Nestor," she said, her posture returning to its upright meditative stance. "None of us can afford to have me relax. Now, please let me resume my duty. Stay if you wish, but no more discussion for now."

Nestor hated her brush-off approach to their conversations, but there was no point in scolding Saga. She wanted to do things this way, and so that was all there was to it. Nowhere near a meditative mood, he got off the rock and exited the secondary clearing, sourly deciding that he'd given the lovebirds plenty of time to themselves.

He didn't see Saga open her eyes to watch him go, a hint of actual emotion in them, a longing for something she couldn't admit in the open. They closed again once he had left, going back to her eternal quest to find a sign in the darkness… and always coming up with more darkness.

* * *

Hiccup had to admit it – this boyfriend-girlfriend business might have its confusing parts, but the benefits were _really _nice.

"You still need to learn how to fight," Astrid said quietly, the tone of her words having lost their insistence as she cuddled with Hiccup, the two of them lying in the grass circle, Hiccup on his back and Astrid nestled at his side, her head on his shoulder and a hand on his chest. Hiccup held her in his arms, feeling pretty pleased with himself for having remedied Astrid's stressed-out mood earlier. It certainly helped to brighten his day too.

It was the quiet moments with Astrid that he enjoyed the most. Sure, romantic flights on Toothless at midnight were nice. Kissing – definitely a plus. There was a certain attraction to watching Astrid and Saga spar on the rare times they allowed for spectators, and those uncommon and terrifyingly exciting times Hiccup and Astrid went into battle together had their charm. But having the time for the two of them to just be still, treasuring each other's company without worry or concern, without having to impress each other or fret that you were about to do something stupid – that was the best.

The world just seemed… good. Right. Like their problems were as distant as the stars in the night sky. He found serenity with Astrid, something he couldn't find with anyone else, not even Toothless. He loved his dragon bud, would die to save his life if need be, but he was still a dragon with dragon tendencies and a dragon's worldview. It just wasn't the same.

"What, you don't like my defensive routine?" he joked.

She looked up from his shoulder and gave him a more insistent gaze. "You're not going to be able to kiss an attacker into submission, Hiccup."

So much for avoiding the subject. "Astrid, why is this important all of a sudden?"

"Same reason you're trying out that special rudder on Toothless again," she answered. "You don't want Toothless to be helpless without you. I want the same thing for you."

Hiccup's eyebrows scrunched. "This has nothing to do with Saga and that extra-long fight you had with her?"

She rested her head on his shoulder once more, a frown on her lips. "Well, I wouldn't say it's unrelated."

"What happened? Did she call you a half-troll?"

She laughed. "Nothing like that. It wasn't anything she did… other than beating me again for the hundredth time. I just started thinking about your project, the _hows_ and the _whys_ of it. I got caught up on the _why_ part especially, and it made me keep attacking Saga over and over, one match after another. I _had_ to beat her, just once. I wasn't asking for much, just one honest victory. She seemed okay with it, never asked me why I was trying so hard. I'd come at her again and again and she just took it without question. I threw every trick I knew at her, every trick she's taught me. When that didn't work, I tried outlasting her, thinking she'll slow down as she got tired, make a mistake. No luck there, either. We fought until I couldn't lift my axe, until my legs were as stable as jelly, and I finally had to drag myself back up here when she decided she needed to meditate."

"And the reason you had to beat Saga was?" asked Hiccup.

"You're going to think it's stupid," she said.

"Unless it's as bad as the time I accidentally lit half the sheep in Berk on fire, I'm not going to think it's stupid," Hiccup reassured.

"Well… I thought if I could beat Saga, then I could beat _anyone_ that comes at us… at you. I'd know I could always protect you."

Hiccup got it now. Plain ol' fashioned insecurity. Astrid didn't like dealing with problems that couldn't be punched in the face, so she tried to use Saga as her frustration outlet. No harm to their friendship, which was good, but it hadn't made Astrid feel any better.

"I told you – stupid," Astrid added.

"No, no, I wouldn't say that," he quickly replied. "You're looking out for me, like you always have. But you're forgetting two things, Astrid: we're not alone out here, and I'm not without skill."

She moved away from him and propped herself up on one elbow. "Hiccup, you've amazing in the air. But you live on the ground, which was okay back when the ground was named Berk but not so much out here. And there's going to be a time when you're on your own during a crisis and you can't talk or think your way out of it. I know you don't like fighting, but this is something you need to learn."

Hiccup groaned unhappily. The only fighting he'd ever been good at was snowball fighting, and that was only because he was a small, fast target that the other children couldn't peg easily (and rest assured, most of them had tried). Hiccup thought of himself as the ingenious part of the group and he was perfectly happy to rely on Toothless to handle the combat portions of their partnership, and to continue doing so.

But Astrid wasn't going to let this matter drop, was she? Plus she did have a point, darn it.

"I guess I could stand to bone up on self-defense," he said, "but I should probably do it with someone I'm not tempted to make out with."

"That's a shame," she replied, smiling. "I enjoyed that part."

"Well, no one's saying we can't keep practicing."

Just as the two of them began to resume their "practicing," a blast of hot fish-laced breath blew across their faces, making them cough in disgust. Mood officially killed. A gleeful Toothless now stood over the two of them, his upside-down face smiling and waggling at Hiccup.

"Toothless, what'd I tell you about interrupting Hiccup-Astrid time?" he scolded, pushing the dragon's face to the side so he could sit up and get some air not contaminated by dragon breath.

"He's just the hired help," spoke Nestor from several yards away, juggling a pair of dried jerky slices in his hands. Toothless bounded over to Nestor and the mischievously-smiling man tossed one of the slices into Toothless's open mouth. "Hungry dragons are incredibly bribable."

"Traitor," Hiccup said lightly to his dragon buddy, who was gulping down the second piece of jerky without any hint of shame.

"I thought you were still dealing with the wolf problem, " Astrid said as she and Hiccup stood up and came over to him.

"Done and done. Now we can move on to more mundane tasks." Nestor gestured to the supply basket at his feet. "A supply run."

"Oh, good," beamed Hiccup. "I was starting to run low on grease and…"

"Right, a supply run to civilization, that place we're all supposed to be avoiding," commented Astrid, her face having gone sour. "Except when it's just you two."

"Yes, us two," said Nestor. "Hiccup flies the dragon and I speak the language."

"Which leaves me and Saga behind," continued Astrid.

"Astrid, you know why we can't all go," said Hiccup.

Astrid crossed her arms, her disgruntled expression failing to soften. "I know the arguments, and I don't care. I'm tired of hiding out."

"The people around here have four pet peeves: dragons, Vikings, sorcery, and strangers," said Nestor, counting on his fingers. "Guess what we're full of. The fewer of us that go, the better."

"It really isn't anything personal, Astrid," said Hiccup. "Toothless has to hide the whole time."

"If you two can pull it off, so can Saga and I," insisted Astrid. "I just want one day around people, to see some sights, hear some songs, eat something not salted or smoked to death. Is that too much to ask?"

"I, too, desire this," said Saga, surprising the group with her sudden appearance. She walked up beside Astrid, her mere presence somehow adding weight to Astrid's demand.

"Weren't you meditating?" said Nestor.

"I am taking your advice," Saga rebutted. "Perhaps relaxation will aid my efforts. Also, I am tired of staring at all these trees day in and day out."

Hiccup and Nestor exchanged hesitant looks. Arc had been adamant about them playing it safe while he was gone, but it looked like the stir-crazy blues were winning the day. Toothless went over to Astrid and stood by her, demonstrating his support of this idea despite the fact that he'd be the one lugging them all around.

"Maybe we have been hiding out too much," admitted Nestor, deciding that some accommodation was in order. "But we should make a proper plan of it first. Arc will be back tomorrow. We'll run it by him."

"Won't he just say no?" said Astrid.

"Perhaps," said Nestor. "But he's not _completely_ devoid of any sense of fun and merriment. He might go for it."

Seeing the not-convinced faces on Astrid and Saga, Hiccup decided to sweeten the pot. "We've been alternating between villages in the area, so no one gets suspicious. There is a little lakeshore fishing village to the south, about an hour's flight away," he offered. "We haven't been there yet and Toothless needs some fresh fish in his life. We could go there today and get back before sundown. That might help remove our restlessness. We wouldn't even have to tell Arc." He saw Nestor's skeptical glance and added, "I mean, why worry him?"

"Fishing village," said Saga, unimpressed. "Truly a place of vast entertainment possibilities."

"A fishing village means fewer people with swords to get on the bad side of," said Nestor, going with Hiccup's idea. "Call it a test run for real civilization. If we don't alienate the villagers, we might be able to handle a city. That's where the actual fun is."

"Well, if that's what we got, then let's do it," said Astrid, her spirits back to a chipper state. "Give us a few minutes to get presentable."

As Astrid and Saga went off to clean up, Hiccup turned to Nestor, a dubious expression prominent on his face. "I really hope this doesn't turn out to be a colossally bad idea. We've been pushing our luck with just you and me."

"Three Vikings, a dragon, and little ol' me," said Nestor dejectedly, "and we're all going to a backwater settlement loaded with superstitious folk. We'll be lucky if the village is still standing before we're done."


	3. No Place For Old Dragons

**Author's Notes:** Thanks for the good reviews, folks. I was a little worried that I might have lost my audience after a year. Call me insecure. Two things to note:

- I initally goofed on the genre classifications, and have corrected them. I forgot that my last story was listed as adventure/fantasy. This story will follow suit. I think sci-fi and fantasy have a lot of overlap, but techically there's more fantasy to my ideas in this series than sci-fi, so I'm sticking with my original classifications.

- This chapter is a little short. I am not apologetic, as I've already released two other chapters this week. Trust me, the other chapters will make up for it.

Onwards.

**Chapter Two: No Place For Old Dragons**

Human feet have rarely walked along the Pale Cliffs over the last sixty years, not just because they were as lifeless and unappealing as a pile of dead crabs. Certainly not because they towered almost a hundred feet above the dead, dry riverbank that had carved them out of the rocky ground over the eons. And it wasn't because they were feared to be the roost to many a hungry dragon, hiding among the tumorous bulges and recessed caves of the cliffs. Even with all that, somebody would have shown up to explore, dragon hunt, or plant stakes for a future hovel. Humans are just that stubborn.

Like many a landmark, the Pale Cliffs suffered from a false reputation. In this case, the false part was that it was haunted. Seriously haunted, as in a full spectral invasion of poltergeists out to steal your soul or suck on it or whatever spirits supposedly did to the living. It was silly, like most folklore superstition, but it helped that a few would-be adventurers had come along the cliffs decades ago and had gotten their pantaloons scared off them by alternating encounters with half-seen harassers and brilliant otherworldly lightshows. The rumor grape vine did the rest. Too far away for casual daring, too inhospitable to live in, and worthless on any human level, the Pale Cliffs became off-limits even to the most idiotic of thrill seekers.

One drawback, though – every cave was identical to every other cave in the area. Naturally, it didn't pay to mark up your hidden cave with incriminating evidence of habitation, so finding the one where your old friend was living proved a tedious task.

Arc poked his long neck into Cave #86, sniffing and shifting his earflaps around for any signs of life. His claws gripped the hard rock at the base of the cave, the old dragon choosing to shimmy up the cliff's side instead of tiring out his wings with constant hovering.

This cave could have fit a small flight of dragons, so wide and unobstructed by stony formations as it was. But much like the haunted reputation of the Pale Cliffs, there weren't many dragons about to warrant the myths. They were here and there, certainly, but scattered and solitary.

Arc blew out his exasperation. He'd been trying to keep things covert, not upturn the egg cart as the humans liked to say, but his old friend was clearly not in his usual living quarters. This was about the size of the cave he liked to inhabit – he liked the wiggle room. It was also the last of the caves in its size range. After this, there were still hundreds of other caves to explore, many of which would be occupied with creatures intolerant of visitors.

"Adon?" he yelled into the cave, his words coming back at him in echo form. "Adon, are you present?"

There was no sound outside of his echo. Nothing stirring in the deeper recesses. This cave had the strongest scent of his friend so far, but it didn't appear be lived in. There were piles of bramble and soft grass littering the floor of the cave, but no signs of bones or fur that would suggest recent meals. Adon was a tidy creature and kept his home garbage free, but they're still be a lingering odor of dead meat. It smelled too clean to be inhabited.

Irritated, heedless to whatever else he might stir up, and no longer patient enough to stand more hours of fruitless searching, he took his head out and roared out a Hyperion alert call, a high-pitched cry that carried up to three miles away and was only audible to dragon ears. If Adon was around, he'd certainly hear it. Then again, so would every other dragon, which was why Arc used it sparingly.

Arc repeated the call seven more times, spacing the calls out every ten seconds to allow for a response. He might have gone on longer had something not popped its head out of a miniscule hole right above Arc, looking down on him with half-closed, half-asleep bulging eyes.

The little green-scaled lizard-dragon with the ridged back and bulbous eyes that Arc had awoken was what the Vikings called a Terrible Terror… for some reason. As dragons went, they were considered more nuisance than threat, though a nuisance that could become threatening if cornered or en masse. It was living right next to the bigger cave, its hole barely big enough for its slim body.

"Arc?" it said to him in a squeaky voice.

"Yes, friend Adonis," greeted Arc. "Pardon my call, but you have moved your home… and to something far smaller than your usual tastes."

"I'm old," answered Adon, "and I don't need all the extra space anymore to impress females." Adon crawled completely out his cave and down the cliff, skirting the edge of the bigger cave. "Good to see you, Archibald, but you timed your annual visit poorly. I was dead asleep, you know."

Arc smiled up at his old friend. "Since when are you nocturnal?"

"Since I found out it's easier to avoid humans at night. They're everywhere I hunt these days."

"Still too proud to Shroud?" countered Arc, crawling into the cave proper to alleviate the strain on his limbs. Adon padded along the wall of the cave, keeping level with Arc's head.

"It gives me a headache." Adon darted his head around, checking the cliffs for other visitors, unwelcome as they would likely be. Birds of prey and large grounded predators sometimes tried to get a taste of Terror, with varying degrees of success. Being a member of the smallest dragon species on the planet wasn't an easy life, especially when you were Hyperion and more anti-social than even Arc.

Satisfied that his home was safe for now, Adon fixed the far-bigger dragon with a curious stare. "You seem downright cheery, or as cheery as you get. Is there news to tell?"

"It's over, Adon," declared Arc. "We brought him down."

Adon nodded with grim satisfaction. "I'm glad to have lived to see the day. I'm glad _you _lived to see the day as well. I feared that your vendetta would end badly."

"If you feared such as thing, you could have assisted me," said Arc sorely.

"We all swore to avenge our friend should we ever cross pass with Cervantes, but not to the ends of the earth. Vengeance destroys, Archibald. It does not heal. I thought you were old enough to get that."

"No lectures, friend Adonis," said Arc. "I did learn the lesson, though perhaps I was slow about it."

The little dragon snorted out some laughter. "No doubt. You did mention a 'we,' did you not?"

"Nestor, and a few allies. I did not fight alone."

"Ah, so you still have your charge in your care."

Arc shook his head. "He does not need my care any longer, but he still travels with me."

Adon shook his head in disbelief. "Never understood what you saw in them. I've seen nothing but barely-controlled insanity from the whole lot. But then you go and adopt one. It's like you've forgotten how Cervantes came to be."

"They don't all operate like Cervantes, Adon," defended Arc. "They can… surprise you."

"After six hundred years, nothing surprises me," said the little dragon. "Once you stop getting surprised by life, the world stops being fun and starts being exhausting. It's no place for old dragons, Archibald."

With a quick leap and slight flutter of wings, he landed on the cave floor and moved to a pile of brittle hay not far from the entrance. He gave the pile a swift tap with his tail, prodding the hay as if it was alive. Numerous furry and tiny creatures burst out of it and scampered away, running deeper into the cave or plunging into another piles of dried grass and twigs.

"Mice," said Adon. "Even up here, in an empty cave above a dead river, they find a way into your home. Long after the winds have whittled our bones away to dust, there will still be mice around, making homes in our homes. It's the same way with humans, only they don't make good snack food."

"I'm not here to argue about humanity," said Arc, lowering his scaled belly to the floor so that he didn't talk too high above Adon's head. "In fact, I'm afraid I'm here on Hyperion business."

"Of course you are," said Adon, shaking his head in disappointment. "I should've expected you wouldn't come here just to shoot the breeze with an old dragon."

Age is a relative thing, or so Arc had come to understand. True, he was over eleven-hundred years old and had Adon beat by five centuries, but the little Hyperion was already showing a little wear on the outsides of his scales. They didn't flex as supplely as they used to, nor did Adon's claws bend without discomfort. A Hyperion's essence greatly magnified the lifespan of its host, but not all lifespans are equal. Normal Terrors had a couple decades worth of life in them, maybe three at best. Thunderchilds had seven or eight decades. Arc might still have five or six centuries left, but Adon's time was almost up. A few decades remained for Adon, if that.

It was the inevitable finale of the Hyperion way. Once age or injury had caught up with you, it was time to find a successor, a new dragon to carry on your power and memories. A final task for an old dragon, one that no Hyperion looked forward to.

"You had to go and find a new quest to get caught up in?" continued Adon. "You couldn't just retire, or go on vacation for a century?"

"One quest led into the other, I fear," said Arc, and he went into the tale of his months-long battle with Cervantes, the maniacal necromancer that Arc had sworn to destroy after Cervantes betrayed Latimar, Arc's friend and fellow Hyperion, a mountain-sized dragon forever reduced to an unthinking hungry beast by Cervantes. The battle had culminated in the epic struggle against the Cervantes-controlled Monolith, a war machine that met its end through near-sacrifice and teamwork. He told Adon about the vision the Seer had, of human lands being ripped apart by a ghastly light from the sky, and of the uncomfortable similarities between it and the memory fragment of Latimar Arc had experienced. Adon listened to it all, riveted, amazed at his friend's harrowing tale.

Arc brought the story to the present day, with him and his friends flying to his old forest-based hiding spot, their leads all but evaporated. Adon sighed out a puff of ignition gas and said, "So you came to me thinking I might know something about any of this? I think you've got your dragons mixed up, Arc. You had the most contact with Latimar, not me."

"This isn't a time for secrets, friend Adonis," said Arc, his tone dire. "Next to me, you had the most contact with Latimar… and I know he shared things with you."

"Why would you think that?"

"He implied as much on a few occasions. I watched him talk to you, Adon… though, admittedly, it was hard to see you next to him."

"A size joke," Adon commented unhappily. "How original."

"Apologies, though to be fair he was the size of a mountain and you're… not. I know that the two of you would talk for hours. He was burdened with many secrets, many disturbing ones."

"And you think he told me them? Even if he did, we're Hyperion - we don't talk about our secrets."

Arc narrowed his eyes at Adon, trying to convey the seriousness of his position. "Something lives beyond our world, Adon. The Artisans and the Ancestors feared it, Cervantes feared it, and Latimar feared it most of all. Are you to tell me that he never mentioned anything of it to you, his confessor?"

Adon tried to match Arc in the serious looks category, but he couldn't quite achieve it. A little too hard to take a Terror seriously, even a Hyperion. They were too… cute, even if they were cute like a tiger might be cute as it rolled about on the ground, lazy and happy, before it bounced to its feet and shredded your head with its claws.

"I promised him, Arc," Adon said. "Not a word to any soul, including you. His death didn't change that, and you should know better than to ask."

"I see," replied Arc. "So should the world come to a bitter end, you can watch the final festivities from your hole, content that you kept your promises."

"That's not fair!" shot back the little dragon, the spiky ridges on his back bristling as his temper grew. "If I thought the world was in peril, I would jump to action. But you have no evidence."

"You don't trust my judgment?"

"I don't trust the human you've based your judgment on," clarified Adon. "I don't know why _you_ do."

"She earned it," defended Arc. "Much like how you've earned my trust… and vice versa"

Adon turned his back in a huff, shaking his head adamantly as if doing it enough would make the discussion end. "Is this where we're going? Calling up an old debt?"

"If I have to," said Arc, "but I'd prefer you to be willing."

"That's not going to happen," said Adon, talking to the cave instead of Arc and bowing his head. "I don't betray secrets lightly. But you did save my life all those centuries ago, and it's not like I can really return the favor any longer."

Giving Arc a truly baleful glare, Adon faced Arc once more. "I don't know anything about the thing that destroyed Latimar's world, nor anything about how, when, or why it would come here. But there is a place that might give you that information – the Repository."

The name surprised Arc so completely that a horde of mice might have nibbled off his tail at that moment and he wouldn't have noticed. "That is impossible," he stated flatly. "It's not real."

"Real or not, Latimar knew its location," continued Adon, who took some solace over breaking his vow after seeing the look on Arc's face. "He was the only one who knew it… well, until he told me. Right after Cervantes went necromancer, he told me. Latimar feared that traitorous human would somehow steal the knowledge from him and find it, something that could not be allowed to happen. He feared _that_ more than he feared the Monolith waking up. He feared it so much that he did a memory purge after he told me. I thought he was overreacting, but as it turned out…" Adon trailed off, not wanting to linger on the fate of their mutual friend.

Arc's eyes could only widen so far, so the second surprise didn't change his face much. To sacrifice a memory permanently, especially a Hyperion memory. To destroy history and knowledge that was your sacred duty to protect. Such an act was only done for the direst of reasons.

"I don't know what's actually in the Repository," Adon admitted. "I didn't want to know, which was good as Latimar wasn't about to tell me. I only know how you can get to it. If there's a place holding the answers you seek, that's where it is. However, before I tell you, vow to me one unbreakable promise. Considering you just destroyed an ancient superweapon, it shouldn't be a big thing to you."

Arc didn't like the tone of the comment, but he nodded without replying. Little Adon fixed Arc with a stare so intimidating that his outer Terror shell faded away, Arc feeling the full weight of that mighty Hyperion nature contained within his tiny friend's form.

"When you find the Repository," said Adon, "when you've found your answers, you must destroy it. Level it. Cave it in. Take only information and nothing else. If you don't, I will gather the other Hyperions and _we_ will finish the job… and then we will come after _you_."


	4. Bad Idea

**Chapter Three: Bad Idea**

Ol' Bones held the tiara like he was holding a newborn, the flashy jewel-encrusted headpiece adding ten years to the innkeeper's crinkled visage just by proximity. Heck, it made the dumpy inn that much more rundown just by existing.

Leaning against the oak bar, Qiao patently watched the elderly man examine the colorful tiara. She figured the sale was definite – he was almost drooling over the thing. All that was left to do was the haggling. A shame that Ol' Bones wasn't as wealthy as the buyers in Riki Poka, but he was a lot safer than the underworld types that lived in that gaudy city. He also respected her independence, which wasn't a sure thing if you worked as a thief around established criminal gangs.

He also pronounced her name right – Chee-oh, not Key-oh or Q-oh or Cheeky, the stupid nickname she acquired amongst the major gangs in Riki Poka.

"This is somethin' other than else, Qiao," remarked Ol' Bones, still admiring the jewelry. "Not ya usual payroll robbery. Did ya mug a princess?"

"Do I look like the type that would mug a princess?" defended Qiao, feigning insult. "There was a carriage, there were four guards, and there was a false bottom in a nondescript box labeled 'rat poison'. Amateurs."

Ol' Bones eyed Qiao cautiously. "Ya didn't kill the guards, did ya?"

This time, Qiao actually felt insulted. "Again, do I look the type? Besides, it's more fun to let the guards go so that they have to explain to their lord how they're coming home empty-handed."

Ol' Bones nodded, satisfied with Qiao's answer but hardly sorry he asked the question. He didn't think he was out of line considering that Qiao's "type" didn't match anything he knew of. This lithe, dark-haired woman with the combined features of local Frank and East Asian distinction was as out of place as the moon would be if it came down to his bar for a drink. She dressed in men's wear, keeping the color scheme dark but not suspiciously dark, and ponytailed her long hair to keep it out of the way of the quiver strapped to her back. The bow in her right hand rested lengthwise on the bar counter, a magnificent wooden thing far too polished and ornate to be in the hands of a professional thief. Then again, so was the tiara.

"What do you think – 700?" she offered, initiating the haggling. "I know that's a low price considering what it's worth, but I know you're not the wealthiest fence…"

"400," countered Ol' Bones, putting the tiara on the counter.

"I laugh," said Qiao, not actually laughing. "The emerald in the center of the piece is worth 400 alone."

"Then sell it in Riki Poka," he replied, erasing any signs of his earlier slobbering behind his stoic, wrinkly face. "Take a good look at the inn I run, kid. Not to mention that this is the hottest thing I've ever seen ya pilfer in the two years I've known ya. I'd be spendin' a fortune just finding a buyer willin' to take it off my hands before some bounty hunter comes lookin' for it. My back aches just thinkin' about it."

Qiao didn't have to look around. The inn was about as provincial as they got, much like the village it resided in. It was empty currently, since it didn't get much business before sundown. Not that secrecy mattered in the village – everyone knew Ol' Bones and his "hobbies". But discretion was still required.

"650," offered Qiao. "You know you want it."

"450. Not that badly."

"By my math, we'll probably meet at, what, 550?" Qiao sighed, grabbed the tiara and shoved it into the innkeeper's hands. "I can do better, but there's too much hassle involved"

Ol' Bones disappeared into his office for a minute, extracting payment from some secure location – i.e. the fifth floorboard from a bronze bust of his late wife. She knew where the loot was stashed, but she didn't steal from friends. Life gets real unpleasant when friends preyed on friends.

He came back with a purse, counted out the payment, and then officially concluded the deal by proceeding to grab a relatively clean rag and dust his supply of mugs and glasses, signifying that he was back to his day job. "Ya may have outdone yaself this time. Take my advice – stick to payrolls from now on."

"Oh, I don't know," she said. "Maybe I'll steal a bunch of fancy jewelry so I can wear them and pass myself off as royalty, get into the really swanky castles with the real loot."

"Now _there's_ a way to lose ya head," said Ol' Bones. "And I mean that in the literal sense."

"I'm just kidding," said Qiao, sitting down on a scratchy barstool. "You know what'd be really funny? If it turned out that I was actually a lost princess and that tiara was supposed to be mine and by startling coincidence it fell into my hands."

"Aren't ya a lost princess?" joked the innkeeper. "Ya certainly never struck me as a thief."

"I've never struck you as anything else, either. Besides, I'd get bored being a princess."

Ol' Bones ceased cleaning his mugs and looked at her straight. "Most thieves get into this line of work for one of three reasons: they have contempt for society, they grew up around thieves and don't know any better… or they're runnin' from somethin'."

"Really?" she said, amused. "So which one am I?"

"Ya don't hate society, you're much too cheerful for that. Ya didn't grow up with it, because I've watched ya make a fair share of mistakes early on, mistakes ya wouldn't have made if this were ya family business. So… I'd bet runnin'."

Qiao kept her face emotionless and shrugged. "Could be. Then again, maybe I'm just an incorrigible free spirit. Does it really matter?"

"To me? Not really," said the innkeeper. "But then, ya life isn't mine, is it?"

"You know, I liked it better when our friendship was just business-related," said Qiao. "I better go before…"

The door outside opened abruptly, letting in a shiny stream of sunlight into the subdued establishment, along with an out-of-breath anxious local. Qiao didn't know his name and very briefly feared he was here to point a finger at her. Considering that the bounties on her were low (for now) and she'd never stolen anything from the village, she hadn't worried about getting ratted out before. But there was always a first time for betrayal.

The farmer didn't even look at her. Recovering his breath, he looked at the innkeeper and said, "The craziest thing, Bones. Strangers… riding into the village."

Ol' Bones didn't see the problem, and said as much. "We get strangers all the time. The road through our village goes right to Riki Poka. So?"

"It's… It's what they rode in on," answered the man.

* * *

"Bad idea," said Nestor, watching for any incoming sharp implements. "Bad, bad, idea."

The group of four young humans and one can't-possibly-mistake-it-for-anything-else black dragon was causing quite the stir as they walked up the dirt road to the village proper. Some villagers stopped and stared while others retreated or backtracked, pretty much giving them the entire road. Curious children who pointed or asked questions about the "strange horse" were ushered away, as if the parents were afraid that calling attention to themselves would put them on the dragon's dinner list.

"No, this is right," said Saga, who, unlike the others, showed no sign of second thoughts on their not-quite-unanimous decision to have Toothless come with them _into_ the village. "They will get over their surprise soon enough."

"That's what worries me," said Hiccup. "When they stop being scared and start getting angry."

"Bad idea," repeated Nestor.

"They will not accept dragons as allies if they are not exposed to them in a peaceful manner," insisted Saga. "So we will walk without shame or guilt to this village and enlighten them."

"Bad idea," said Nestor once more.

"Please stop saying that," replied Hiccup. "I'm starting to agree with you."

"When did you two become such naysayers?" said Astrid. "Do you really want to keep hiding Toothless this whole trip?"

"I want him to keep breathing," said Hiccup.

"This will work," said Saga. "A little faith."

"Is that the Seer talking or _you_ talking?" said Nestor. Though she kept up her confident demeanor, she didn't answer, which automatically answered Nestor's question for him.

Open arms – the Gunnarr way. Saga had never been onboard with all the camping and hiding. Not the kind of thing a warrior society tolerated. Gunnarr diplomacy was to show all their strength and weapons up front, to demonstrate that there were no surprises or dirty tricks. The other party would then know what to expect and would act accordingly. She was the one who had strongly suggested that they go to the village all together… including Toothless.

Astrid had sided with Saga, saying that the world would know about Vikings riding dragons eventually and they might as well get used to the idea. Hiccup had grudgingly sided with Astrid partly because of the forlorn _don't leave me behind again_ look Toothless was giving him and partly because boyfriends sided with their girlfriends on general principle. That left Nestor outvoted, and while he argued that the Gunnarr open arms diplomacy method didn't reassure people so much as intimidate them, he already knew he wasn't going to win this one. He decided that experience was the best teacher and that the others were going to learn today that run-of-the-mill villagers were not the best judges of character.

"They… don't seem to hate us," commented Astrid. "That's a good sign."

"They don't get a lot of Vikings down here," said Nestor. "Not their favorite people, though, so don't do anything too… Vikingish."

"Right," said Hiccup. "We'll just… not be us."

The village was ringed by massive logs tied together to form a semi-effective fortification, big enough that horses couldn't jump over it (though not a problem for your average dragon). A very basic defense for a village far away from any protective castle walls. The road ran through the fortification, wooden gates positioned to halt any unwanted visitors. The gates were open for daytime use, though there was a guard stationed at the entrance who looked like he hated his job.

Along the road and just before the village gate, there was a spot on the barricade that had become a posting board for various flyers, bounties, and edicts nailed into the wood. Being the only one who could read Old Frank, Nestor perused it for anything important while the others studied the more picture-oriented postings. Toothless had found the barricade itself to be covered in interesting aromas from many different locales and went to sniffing it.

Most of the information was stuff concerning Riki Poka, which made sense as this was a major road that travelers used to get to the far bigger and more exciting city on the Mediterranean shore. "Ah, yeah, " commented Nestor, pointing at one sign at the top of the posting spot. "According to this, we are entering the village of… Weed."

"Weed?" said Hiccup. "Suddenly, Berk isn't such a silly name." He noticed another flyer, one with a simplistic hand-drawn picture of a city on a coastline. "What's this one? Um…" He read the foreign title and tried to decipher it with what little Old Frank Nestor had taught him to date. "Hazard - fire danger."

"Harvest Festival," corrected Nestor. "Riki Poka's having one in five days."

"Festival?" said Astrid, her eyes lighting up at the name. "Is that an actual festival, with food, dancing, singing?"

"Most harvest festivals do that, yes," confirmed Nestor.

"Sounds like the Mainland version of Snoggletog," reasoned Saga.

"The Gunnarr celebrate Snoggletog?" said Hiccup. It never occurred to him that other Viking tribes might have the same traditions, especially not the war-like Gunnarr.

"We were not without some celebrations in our lives," replied Saga. "Snoggletog was one of the few pleasant memories from my childhood. Father had to act like he cared about me as a person, if only for a day."

"Well, we might have to miss Snoggletog this year. Maybe we should try this instead," said Astrid brightly.

"What the krebit is Snoggletog?" asked Nestor, feeling left out of the conversation.

"Excuse me?" came another voice, the irritated tone unmistakable. The gate guard had come up to them, a man in a chainmail shirt holding a rusty spear. Toothless was right next to him, examining an ant hill that was in the process of emptying, the worker ants carrying white eggs to some holey destination along the barricade. The ants weren't fond of the dragon's presence. Neither was the guard.

"You can't leave your mount untethered," he continued. "Also… " He gave Toothless a leery glance. "It's a dragon."

Norse. The guard was speaking Norse. Quite the shock, one that the whole gang felt. Exactly how much had he overheard?

Hiccup didn't think they had said anything alarm-raising, but then the fact that they were Norse might be alarming enough. He came forward, wearing his most congenial non-threatening face. "Sorry about that. He's used to roaming around. Free-ranged dragon, you know."

Toothless cocked his head at the guard, his ears up and his eyes nice and wide. He looked more cute than dangerous, even to the disgruntled guard. The guard shook his head and said, "There's all types, I guess. Had an African prince pass through here with a pet elephant one time. Wouldn't want to be the poor sap that walked behind _that_ thing all the way to Riki Poka."

"Trust me, he's well behaved," said Hiccup. "But if that's the rule…" He then called Toothless over and told the dragon he had to reconnect one of their saddle straps for now. The Night Fury gave him a dirty look, but didn't offer resistance when Hiccup attached one of his harness straps. The strap would do precious little to control Toothless should the dragon get the notion to do his own thing, but now there was the appearance of control and that would hopefully satisfy the villagers.

"How do you know the language?" asked Nestor, taking over the talking for Hiccup while he was occupied.

"I come from Riki Poka originally," explained the guard, more at ease with the dragon leashed up. "It's a port city. You get all types of visitors, all the way from the Red Sea to the North Sea. Everyone knows three or four languages there. My father traded with the Norse for years and I learned it for the family business."

"Yet you now stand guard miles away from Riki Poka, protecting a simple village," spoke Saga, blunt as ever. Nestor winced, hoping she hadn't just hit a tender area of the guard's life.

Remarkably, the guard shrugged off the comment. "City life's not for me. It's quiet out here. You can hear yourself think. My job sucks, but we can't have it all."

"So… no problems with Vikings in particular?" asked Astrid, her tone hopeful.

The guard snickered. "We have plenty of other things to worry about. You behave yourselves, you're fine." The gang exchanged relieved glances. Maybe hiding out in the woods was no longer necessary.

"Then we'll leave you to it," said Nestor. "Before we go in, are there any…?"

"You don't seriously think I'm letting the dragon inside, do you?" said the guard. "Leash or no leash, it's still a dragon."

To his credit, Toothless didn't growl at the slight, though his eyes narrowed a bit. Hiccup, however, wasn't as silent. "C'mon, you've let elephants walk through. He's no more dangerous."

"Elephants can't light fires by breathing," countered the guard.

Nestor headed off any further angry retorts from the others by darting in front of Hiccup and saying, "I assume that there are no law against having dragons as mounts, correct?"

"Uh…" stammered the guard. "Well, only because the subject's never come up before. But I'd think…"

"So if there's no law, you can't really get in trouble when something unprecedented occurs. I mean, _salo krebit_, who'd expect a lowly guard to know what to do when a guy riding a dragon shows up. It just doesn't happen. Besides, we have coin and are willing to spend it. You don't want to make the village merchants unhappy by turning away potential customers, correct?" Nestor jiggled the coin purse attached to his belt for emphasis. The coins were technically Arc's money, from a hidden stash near the old shack, but since Hyperions rarely had the need to buy anything Arc allowed them to use it… provided they bought necessities and nothing else.

Nestor's argument rattled the guard enough that he didn't have an easy rebuttal. He didn't even try, throwing up his hands and declaring that he didn't get paid enough to deal with these kinds of problems. After a second of reconsideration, where his face tightened and relaxed as he pondered the myriad ways this could go badly, he stepped out of the way to let them pass into the village of Weed. The gang wisely waited until getting out of earshot before they let out a collective sigh of relief.

"Impressive," said Saga to Nestor.

"Not the first time I've had to sweet talk my way into a village," replied Nestor.

"Good thing, too," said Astrid. "I wanted to kick him someplace important."

"And we thank you for your restraint, sweetie," said Hiccup, guiding Toothless along behind him. Toothless behaved himself remarkably well despite the clear resentment in his eyes at being led around like an oversized mongrel.

Astrid stopped in her tracks, thrown by the term of endearment. "Sweetie?"

Hiccup stopped as well, concerned at Astrid's confusion. "Ah… I was just trying it out."

"No, actually, it's okay," she said, smiling at him after her confusion abated. "Just not used to hearing that kind of thing from you."

"Oh," said Hiccup, relieved. "Well, I have other ones I've been saving up. How's honey-blossom work for you?"

"Too much," said Saga, offering her opinion. "Use a term that accentuates her warrior spirit as well as her kindness. Perhaps something like 'warrior blossom' or 'honey blade'."

"Can we skip the public displays of affection and not call more attention to ourselves than we've already garnered?" commented Nestor, motioning to the village around them. "Some of us still have secrets to keep."

Nestor's concern wasn't without validity, as many eyes did stop and stare at them as they progressed into the village center. But it wasn't the same as other villages, not the same kind of hostile scrutiny as the villages along the North Sea were prone to give out. Toothless got his fair share of attention, mostly curiousness with some degree of that-thing's-a-dragon type reactions. They stood in doorways and windows, fishers and farmers and tradesmen with tools in hand or supplies in tow, making their comments or passing along the news about a dragon meandering around their residences. But there was little fear behind the stares, as if weird events weren't unexpected in this part of the world. To these villagers, strangers weren't threats – they were entertainment.

Unlike the semi-helpful gate guard, the rest of the village didn't speak Norse. Nestor played translator, starting with a cautious-sounding merchant selling a selection of fruits. In exchange for buying a few apples, he gave them some information about Weed and the best fish seller to haggle with. He also mentioned that most merchants knew a little Gaelic as well, which Saga had some fluency in and which meant Nestor wasn't stuck talking for everyone the whole time.

They didn't have much time left in the day, so it was decided to split the group into the necessity-shoppers (Hiccup, Toothless, and Nestor), and the cart-gazing shoppers (Astrid and Saga). They'd meet back at the entrance before sundown and calmly walk out of the village instead of flying out and causing a scene. Nestor decided not to mention that flying out might be the _least_ of the scenes they could cause should things go wrong.

* * *

Astrid had incorrectly thought that Saga couldn't pull any more surprises on her. There had to be a finite amount of secrets to a person, and Saga had shown her the biggest ones. Yet Saga pulled off another one when she passed by a cart selling nothing but dried flower petals fastened into simple necklaces… and actually stopped at it.

The village merchants pushed a lot of knickknacks and consumables, everything from lavender for masking your troublesome odors to wind chimes that supposedly brought good luck to your home to baskets of dried fruits that looked as appetizing as whale blubber. Saga had ignored most of the jabbering merchants doing their best to score a sale before coming to one stand with a selection of hanging necklaces. She studied them with guarded interest, lifting up one, putting it back when it didn't meet her approval, then moving on to the next one. She found one necklace made up of violets that lacked any gaping holes or wilted edges, plucked it from the rack, and laid it across her left arm as if testing it against her outfit.

"It seems to work," she commented and then turned to a dumbfounded Astrid. "What do you think?"

"Uh…" she stammered. "It doesn't clash." That was enough for Saga, who lightly tossed a coin to the grateful merchant, taking a second violet-based necklace as well to get her money's worth.

Keep in mind, Saga had softened since the first day Astrid had meet her, but softened in the way metal softened when it got hot enough. Astrid herself had a harsh reputation, known for giving boys black eyes at a moment's notice and a love for swinging axes more than brooms, but she did have a tender side that came out amongst friends and family. She wasn't above sticking a daisy in her hair when she was in the mood, or going gaga over a litter of baby dragons (but then, who didn't). And for the last two months, she'd kept waiting for Saga to follow in her footsteps, to trust more, feel more, let others befriend her more. Instead, this new crusade had made her guarded and withdrawn, devoting her time exploring her Seer power, sussing out the nebulous threat that had driven them to travel far beyond the happy confines of Berk. A.k.a. typical Saga.

Perhaps her father's death and her subsequent exile from her clan had affected her more than she let on, despite her reassurances to the contrary. Astrid believed Saga when she said there hadn't been much affection displayed within her family. Too busy running the clan and acting out their societal roles, which didn't allow for softness. But Astrid had seen the human side of Saga leak out from between the cracks in the Seer façade. Part of her grieved, and that part was driving her back to her Seer role, something she was used to, a role that must make sense to her.

And then she goes and buys a flowery, _girly_ necklace. Two of them.

"Is this bait for a trap?" Astrid had to ask. "Some flower-eating fluffy creature that you want us to catch?"

"Dried flowers are not very appetizing," answered Saga, throwing one to Astrid and putting the other around her neck. The necklace sat casually against her clothes, livening up Saga's dour image almost immediately. She waited quietly for Astrid to do the same, Astrid eventually catching on and putting her new necklace over her head. Violets weren't really her flower of choice, but if wearing them got Saga to loosen up then wear them she would.

"That is good," said Saga, nodding her approval. "We will blend in better now."

"Blend in?" asked Astrid. Saga motioned to the stares they were getting as they meandered around the merchant carts and tables. Most of them were from guys, intrigued and/or allured by the two girls dressed in warrior outfits. The women villagers all wore dresses with flowery adornments. That's probably where Saga got the idea.

"I don't think the flowers are going to make us less conspicuous," said Astrid.

"Then we will look like we wish to belong," replied Saga, "and that should help calm troubled minds."

"And here I thought you were starting to lighten up."

"This trip was for your benefit, not mine. I overheard your desire to leave the camp and I decided to render you support. I felt it was a good idea considering the emotional nature of our extended sparring session today."

Astrid tried to hide her embarrassment, feeling stupid for assuming that Saga's dispassionate disposition had meant she hadn't picked up on Astrid's mood. "Look, about that…"

"It is not a problem, Sister," Saga interrupted in an assuring tone. "If it was a dilemma for me to know, you would have told me. I assume you have worked it out since our morning exercise."

"Well, yeah, I did. But it wasn't fair of me to take it out on you."

"You did not," Saga said, smiling lightly. "You never even got close." Astrid smiled back at Saga's humor and that was that, the two of them dropping the matter as they browsed.

It made sense now, Saga's behavior. The pet name _Sister_ was no accident, either. Astrid had to admit that she thought of Saga like an older sister, one who found secretive ways to look out for her younger sibling. Astrid didn't have any sisters by blood and it was nice to pretend she had one. She only wished that Saga would let her reciprocate on the looking-out-for-each-other part.

She also hadn't lied about having worked her feelings out over Hiccup's safety… well, not lied about having _attempted_ to work it out. She still felt plenty uneasy, had felt uneasy all during their sojourn. Despite the romantic undertones of leaving your home behind so that you could stay at the side of the one you loved, it also caused a lot of anxiety. It'd be easier if they had an enemy to go after, a face she could punch. Berk wasn't a safe place to live, even after the dragons had moved in, but the dangers were known and could be avoided, prepared for. This constant fear of something popping in out of the blue, surprising them – it itched at her like a bad rash. How could they be ready for a mystery threat if it always stayed a mystery?

She couldn't bear the thought of losing Hiccup after everything they'd been through. They were a capable bunch, very capable when it came to taking down the bad guys, but she wouldn't rest easy until they were back home again. No amount of kissing or flowery necklaces or rationalizing was going to change that for her.

* * *

A nice selection of trout sat lifeless on the ramshackle stand, their odiferous nature making Toothless quiver with anticipation. He practically slobbered at the fresh catch, staring at it as if hoping one of the fish would leap into his mouth. Toothless had only three real loves and one of them was sitting there, begging to be eaten. After days of dried meat and jerky, it was all he could do to behave.

"Kinda pricey for lake trout," said Hiccup, examining the catch. His supply basket was at his feet, fish-free while Hiccup decided whether or not to move to the next merchant in line. "At the last village, we could get a whole basket for half the price. I swear, the closer we get to Riki Poka, the more expensive everything gets."

The comment had been tossed at Nestor, who'd been doing the translating with the fish merchant. It didn't get a response, which made Hiccup look up. Nestor's attention was elsewhere, his head cocked upward so that he looked like he was staring off into the sky.

"I'm watching you, you little krebit," muttered Nestor, his tone downright nasty.

"Uh… Was it something I said?" asked Hiccup, confused.

"Wasn't aimed at you," clarified Nestor. "Street urchin, five carts down from us on the left." Hiccup glanced the specified direction and saw a dirty, impish-looking child of eight or nine winters looking their way. He hid himself behind a vacant cart, hiding in that half-baked way children do when they think you can't see them. His exposed hand held a rounded rock, the child rolling it in his palm. No doubt that the good-and-evil sides of him were having a debate on whether to chuck it their way.

"Don't look at him," said Nestor. "They see it as a challenge."

Hiccup averted his eyes to the sky, pretending to watch the same imaginary flock of geese Nestor was while keeping the rock-threatening twerp in the corner of his eye. "One in every village, right?"

"One in every village," echoed Nestor.

They'd been to several other villages during the trip and the Fates' Luck had been kind so far. No attempts at pummeling Nestor with rocks until now. Nestor had thought that the two of them together made the temptation less desirable and more risky. Easier to pick on one stranger than two. But this kid didn't seem to have the same survival instinct, especially since there was a dragon accompanying the strangers.

Hiccup chanced another glance at the dumb child and realized that he wasn't _that_ dumb after all. Or else he heard someone calling his name, as the boy got up from his hiding spot and ran away down the street, dropping his rock into a basket of cucumbers.

"Ah, yeah, you better run," said Nestor, his tone pleasant once more. He kept watching the spot where the street urchin had gone, to make sure it hadn't been a fake-out. It happened on occasion.

Whatever comment Hiccup had at the ready was forgotten when the fish merchant suddenly began a stream of rapid-fire ranting right at the surprised boy. Not yet knowing his Old Frank enough to reply, it came off as angry gibberish to Hiccup, his confused look causing the merchant to gesticulate wildly – as if adding wild hand gestures was at all helpful.

"Nestor? A little help?" he asked.

His attention still on the street, Nestor said, "Essentially, he's saying that you shouldn't be letting your dragon eat the merchandise. That's the polite version."

Indeed, Toothless's willpower had lost the battle with his hunger, Hiccup pivoting to witness a tailfin disappearing into the dragon's mouth. Licking his teeth, Toothless then proceeded to extend his neck and grab the next trout in line on the table with his mouth, the table less occupied with fish than Hiccup remembered a minute ago.

"Toothless!" he scolded. The dragon immediately halted in midbite, looking at Hiccup as if he had his paw in the preverbal honey pot, then removed his mouth from around the newest purloined fish and backed away. The dragon lowered his head and tried to head off further scolding by acting properly chastised.

"You know better!" yelled Hiccup… but then he wondered if Toothless _did_ know better. Back home, fish were never left out in the open unless it was resting in a dragon's trough. You didn't trust dragons not to help themselves. As well behaved as Toothless was, he still thought with his stomach much of the time.

"I'm really sorry, he's doesn't normally steal food off tables," Hiccup explained. Forgetting that the merchant couldn't understand him, it took Nestor, a basket of bought fish, and several coins to calm the merchant down and not cause an incident.

Feeling that they were pressing their luck by staying longer, Hiccup and Nestor decided to wait outside the entrance to the village and not go exploring further. They found a grassy knoll to sit upon, out of the way but with line-of-sight to the gate. Despite feeling cross at his buddy, Hiccup allowed Toothless a few more fish so that the dragon didn't get bored and wander. The sun wasn't far from the horizon, so they didn't expect to wait for the girls long.

"I can't take you anywhere, can I?" Hiccup commented to Toothless, the dragon's shame-faced act losing some of its effectiveness with a fish sticking out of his mouth.

"Could've gone a lot worse," said Nestor, his face thoughtful. "The merchant might have called the guards on us. They're definitely more laid back here than other places. There's something about this area…"

"The Riki Poka Effect," said Hiccup.

"Eh?"

"That's what I call it," explained Hiccup. "There 's something different about Riki Poka, like anything and everything happens there. All the villages around it want to be like it, setting up markets and courting visitors and acting like every paying customer's their best friend. I hear the name pop up everywhere, and I don't even speak the language."

"Never been there myself," said Nestor. "All I've heard is that it's run by a bunch of rich guys with an open trade policy."

"Astrid wanted to try out the harvest festival," said Hiccup. "Maybe we should."

Nestor groaned at the idea. "Hiccup, as harmless as this detour turned out to be, cities are different creatures than villages. Lots more to offer, but lots more that can go wrong."

"You're sounding a lot like Arc right now."

"Arc's not here, so someone's got to do it." Then he thought about it some more and added, "I've spent the last few years fearing for my life every time I put one foot into civilization. I get uptight about these situations."

"I get that," replied Hiccup. "But today, going into Weed… I felt less homesick. We can't be focusing on saving the world all the time… especially since we don't have anything to focus on just yet."

Nestor didn't reply right away, maintaining his thoughtful expression before nodding and saying, "I keep forgetting that this is your first real time away from home. This is old territory for me. I suppose that if you're willing to leave your comfort zone, so am I. But we're still running the idea past Arc first. No sneaking around on something as major as Riki Poka." Hiccup agreed, and they had a few minutes of quiet contemplation before Hiccup brought up a new subject.

"You think you could teach me how to fight like you?"

Nestor gave him a weird look. "Um… well, first, you need to find a Hyperion willing to give you his barrier field…"

"I meant your style," said Hiccup. "You know, bare handed and holds and all that."

"Again, the barrier field," said Nestor. "Otherwise it hurts a lot more. Why this sudden interest? I thought Vikings got taught this kind of thing before they learned to walk."

"If you haven't noticed, I'm not exactly good with weapons. And I need to placate Astrid about this or she's going to be on my back about it from here on out. If you'll teach me self-defense, I'll figure out how to… make it work."

Nestor shrugged. "Well, I can certainly teach you the basics. We can start tomorrow, right around the time Saga and Astrid go sparring. I'll make sure to go easy on you."

"Please do," said Hiccup. "I would like to keep my remaining bones the way they are."

* * *

While plenty of eyes were upon the exotic travelers that day, one set watched with far more keen interest than the rest.

Qiao stood in the doorway of the inn along with Ol' Bones, fascinated by the strangers and their black dragon mount. As they splintered into two groups, she kept track of the two boys and their dark companion, unconcerned with the two gals fading into the bazaar. Definitely the most exciting thing to show up since the time a merchant from Deep Africa tried to peddle his collection of Black Mambas at the Riki Poka livestock pavilion.

"They don't look rich," muttered Ol' Bones, predicting her mindset. "The dragon probably doubles as a guard hound."

"The dragon has a false tail," she replied. "Can't be all _that_ dangerous."

"What'd be the point, girl?" Ol' Bones gave her the don't-be-stupid glare that he liked to flash when he thought she was about to get all impetuous on him.

"The point is to have fun in life, innkeeper," she said. "They're… interesting, and I bet they have something interesting hidden away."

"They can also fly faster than ya track," countered Ol' Bones. "How do ya deal with that?"

She extracted something out of her belt pouch and flipped it around like she was flipping a coin for luck. Ol' Bones recognized the object: a pebble the size of an eyeball, as smooth and clear as glass. Qiao called it her good luck charm, a memento she'd stolen in her youth. Ol' Bones suspected it was more than that, but in this illegal business it was better not to ask too many questions. Answers had a habit of coming back to bite you.

"Same way I deal with everything else," she said, a sly smile on her lips. "By being clever."


	5. Lazy Morning

**Author's Note:** I don't know if there's a town called Berk out in the world somewhere, but there _is_ a town called Weed. I drive by it every time I go north to Portland, Oregon. And every time I pass it, I ask myself the same question:

Why _Weed?_

Seriously, what was the logic? "We're founding a new town and we're naming it after a generic undesirable plant found in lawns and gardens?" I suppose it could have been the _other _definition, but that makes even less sense.

Folks, my impassioned plea here - if you ever found a new town, city, or leper colony, pick a sensible name.

Onwards.

**Chapter Four: Lazy Morning**

While the laws of existence have their arbitrary moments, Cragfist thought he had a good grasp of the fundamentals. You could fit the amount of scientific knowledge rotting unused in Cragfist's brain in a thimble and have room to spare, but he did know one thing for certain. You didn't build a boat out of stone unless you wanted it to sink the second it touched water. Didn't matter how small the stone. They sank. They always sank.

But then metal wasn't supposed to move on its own and bones were only supposed to be active while still in a living body. The last few months had rearranged his thinking on many things.

The reason for Cragfist's confusion, beside his obvious lack of imagination, was largely centered of the nature of the vessel he traveled upon, the one sailing close to a shore he'd never seen before, far from his native North Sea hunting grounds. This vessel was ten, possible twelve times larger than any longboat, and there wasn't a single log fastened to its structure.

Stone. Uncompromising, undeniably solid, and unrealistically floating. Having spent three weeks aboard the _Zenith_ (which was a completely unsatisfying name for a warship), he had long ago stopped fearing that the ship would suddenly remember the way things were supposed to be and drown him in his sleep. But he still didn't like it.

There was plenty to like, though. His clothes were mended, his hair was back to its usual length, and his belly was full. Simple pleasures meant more when you're deprived of them for a time. Still no magical weaponry, or those gem-encrusted belts that the Alchemist's veteran soldiers wore. He had yet to earn those.

A clear moonless darkness kept the ship's very presence from disturbing the towns and villages along the coast. They only traveled at night or in heavy fog, sailing along a preplanned route and making berth during the day. The Alchemist was shrewd at staying out of sight, a mean feat considering the strength of her private army. If Cragfist had had control of the _Zenith_, he'd be letting everyone know it… starting with Berk, his sister, that infuriating girl Astrid, that misbegotten Dragon Rider…

"Sentry, report," demanded a voice from behind him. The bass voice of Norom always sent shivers down his back; always carrying a reminder of the utter humiliation he'd given Cragfist on their first meeting. The Alchemist's 1st Officer never slept, not as far as Cragfist had noticed. The rest of the four-dozen crewmembers were resting, a privilege Cragfist wished he could have as well.

"Clear," Cragfist said irritably. "Just like half-an-hour ago and the half-hour before that and…"

"Dispense with your attitude, sentry," demanded Norom, joining Cragfist at the side of the ship, looking out on the lightless shoreline. "Vigilance requires constant attention."

"I know a thing or two about vigilance, Norom," snapped Cragfist. "I am Gunnarr. We whip guards that fall asleep."

"A good suggestion," snarled Norom. "I'll keep that it mind the next time I find you asleep on the job."

"You won't," replied Cragfist, staring angrily back at the oversized brute.

"Are you two at it again?" chimed in a female voice, causing the two of them to break off their argument. The Alchemist had climbed up the ladder from a nearby hold and was quietly approaching them, the only other figure on the deck of the subdued ship.

"Doing my duty, my lady," stated Norom.

"As was I," added Cragfist.

She shook her head with an impatient sigh. "Men: great at war, bad at peace. I've been getting complaints from the crew quarters. Whatever contest is between you two, save it for the daytime." Giving each other quick glares, they then apologized and swore to do as told.

"Lovely night, isn't it?" she said, joining her two subordinates at the railing. "The stars, particularly. No moon to outshine them, no clouds to obscure them. The stars above us are the only real constant in our lives, and even they change."

"Our ancestors, watching over us," said Cragfist. When he got odd looks from both the Alchemist and Norom, he added, "Or so my people believe."

"That's cute," said the Alchemist, not hiding her condescending tone. " Norom, what are really looking at?"

"Celestial bodies moving through the universe," he proudly proclaimed.

"Correct. Some are made of light and gas, others are made of stone and earth, and they all dance up there. Around us or around each other. These are long dances, taking years to complete. But eventually everything comes around again, like the seasons or bad mutton. Everything repeats itself… birth, life, and then death."

"Looks like the same stars to me," said Cragfist. "Same ones I grew up with."

"Same ones _I_ grew up with as well," said the Alchemist. "Except that I know that some of those stars have winked out, never to return. I know that some things… can never come around again. No matter how much we beg and plead to our deities for the return of the things we cherish…" She trailed off, a melancholy expression on her skyward-looking face. Cragfist had no idea where this was going, but he was used to feeling that way in the Alchemist's company.

"We look ahead, then," comforted Norom. "Our time has come. _Your_ time has come."

"Not quite yet, I'm afraid." She frowned and chose to stare at the dark sea. You wouldn't even notice you were at sea unless you saw the water. The _Zenith_ didn't rock with the waves or flow with the wind. It didn't even have a mast. It simply glided over the water as if scoffing at the sea's rough contours the whole time.

"I take it the Recorder hasn't bequeathed its secrets to you yet," deduced Norom.

"No, it's still fighting me," she admitted, turning away from the sea to stare at her 1st Officer. "Not to worry. Give it a few more weeks and its energy level will drop down to a point where it can't resist me."

The Recorder – another one of those words Cragfist kept hearing around the Alchemist that had little meaning for him, yet was probably something important. Much like that metal monstrosity that the Necromancer had been after, it was some kind of old artifact that the Alchemist had dredged up from the bottom of the North Sea. One of her "designs" had allowed her to go underwater, _breathe_ underwater. With ropes and hooks and nets they had hoisted it to the _Zenith_, where it rested inside the ship's hold. No one besides Norom and those two assassin types had seen it in person, but the Alchemist talked about it a lot.

"Then I have good news," said Norom. "The signalman picked up a faint trace from a village near Riki Poka. It matches the frequency from the missing Trail Stone."

"It's her, then," said the Alchemist, the news improving her outlook. "I knew she wouldn't travel too far from the coast, not if she believes I have moved on. For now, it'll stay that way. We keep to our plans."

"Her" – that was the other enigmatic word. Cragfist felt so out of the loop that he couldn't even see anything resembling a loop.

Noticing Cragfist's deeply confused face, The Alchemist patted his shoulder and said, "Cheer up, Cragfist. This will all make sense in time. You've come into the picture right as my plan begins to take fruition. It's going to get really exciting from here on out. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to take another crack at the Recorder."

As she walked off, Norom snuck in a sneer at Cragfist and muttered, "Personally, I don't think it'll _ever_ make sense to you." Then he stormed off to continue his inspection of the ship.

A means to an end – Cragfist told himself this over and over. They were all a means to an end. The confusion, the humiliation, the madness he heard from their mouths – it would all be worth it down the road. Once he got hold of those silver-hued weapons, once The Alchemist trusted him with her toys, he'd be off to reverse some injustices in his life.

His time was coming around again, and it _definitely_ wouldn't be the same as last time.

* * *

Lazy dragons made for lazy mornings.

One of the cardinal rules about having a dragon as a pet was that you usually got up when the dragon wanted to get up. They had a hundred ways to prompt you to do this, half of which were painful. So when a dragon nudged you or pounded on your roof or lightly singed your bedspread, you were smart not to ignore it.

When the weather was good, as it had been, Hiccup and Astrid had slept on their bedrolls right next to Toothless, whose body heat made the colder nights tolerable. There was no bed in the cabin… well, no bed anyone dared to sleep in for fear of becoming a banquet for bed bugs… so it was either the cold floor of the cabin or the great outdoors. Nestor, Arc, and Saga found other places to be, Nestor resting not far from Arc and Saga doing her own thing.

Usually hunger or a burning need to fly got Toothless to wake up with the sun and then nudge Hiccup relentlessly. But this morning, as the sun shot some rays into Hiccup's eyes and roused him, Hiccup blissfully realized that he had woken up on his own accord, unbundling himself from his bedroll and breathing in the crisp forest air. Toothless was snoring behind him, probably worn out from yesterday's flying with his belly happily stuffed with fish.

Lying a few feet to his side, Astrid was also peacefully snoozing in her own bedroll. Toothless typically woke her up while waking Hiccup. Watching her sleep was a surprisingly pleasurable rarity in the mornings.

They were trying to be smart about things. They slept close but not… too close. There was certainly a bit of temptation in that department, but they both agreed that taking things slowly and wisely (and boringly) wasn't just a good idea for the mission at hand, but for themselves. Toothless's presence helped.

Quietly putting on his solitary boot and attaching his metal foot, he spotted Nestor appearing from behind the cabin with a pair of trout in his hands. Nestor noticed Hiccup, waving a good morning, and headed for the fire pit to prepare breakfast. Ironically, Nestor was the best cook in the group despite, or because of, all his time in the wilds. His cooking didn't have much flair, but it beat Hiccup's attempts. Something about putting in the right spices in their proper proportions.

Saga subscribed to the survival training style of cooking: cooked if possible, raw if necessary. They didn't ask her to prepare meals often.

Astrid had a love of cooking. However, her definition of cooking was to put potentially edible things together in a pot and call it food. Everyone quietly steered her away from the kitchen, though it didn't always work. The most extreme example had to be the Yaknog incident from two winters ago, a drink she had made up and shared with the whole village.

There had been much suffering that winter.

Nestor was halfway through de-boning a fish when he apparently realized he'd forgotten something and disappeared around the other side of the cabin once more. Right then, Hiccup felt something flick off his back. He twisted around and saw the object, a twig lying on his bedroll. The culprit was still feigning sleep, though the smile on her face gave up the game.

"Oh, gee, what's this twig doing here?" mocked Hiccup. "There are no trees above us. This is very confusing."

"You're going to wake up Toothless, talking like that," Astrid said, opening her eyes and propping herself up with an elbow. Then the obvious occurred to her. "Wait, did we just sleep in?"

"Weird, huh?" Hiccup glanced at his dragon, who was still happily asleep. Even their talking wasn't rousing him. Lazy-bum dragon, that's what he was.

"I don't know," she replied, climbing out of her bedroll. "I could get used to it."

_Thunk!_

The abnormal morning noise ruined any further lazy-morning ideas, the hard sound of something hitting wood with significant force. Hiccup and Astrid exchanged confused stares, unsure of what they'd just heard or where it had come from. The odd noise penetrated Toothless's dream state, the dragon opening his eyes with annoyed intrigue.

"That didn't sound like normal breakfast preparations," commented Hiccup.

_Thunk!_

The noise repeated, though this time Hiccup thought it had likely come from around the side of the cabin, the one Nestor had disappeared behind. Toothless proved that he still had the best ears around by bolting up from his bed and bounding toward the disturbance, Hiccup and Astrid running after him.

They rounded the corner to find Nestor standing upright along the wall of the cabin, frozen in a bizarre position, hunched over with his arms outstretched towards the firewood pile he used to fuel the cooking pit. Nestor craned his neck as far back as it could go, looking at his friends with fear-laden surprise. Hiccup quickly noticed the pair of arrow shafts sticking out of the log wall right where Nestor's arms were. It didn't take long for him to realize that those arrows were pinning Nestor to the cabin, though the lack of blood or agony-laced screaming meant that they had hit cloth and not flesh.

"A little help?" Nestor cried out. But before anyone could take action, a third _thunk_ resounded from behind Astrid, a new arrow hitting the wall only a foot from her head and driving in almost its full length. The arrow's flight had given away the archer's position, everyone looking up into the trees at the edge of the clearing. Hiccup and Astrid gaped at the sight of a woman standing on the bough of a tall evergreen a good twenty feet off the ground, confidently balanced on the bending limb with a bow in one hand and another arrow in the other.

"Hi, hello, and greetings," the woman cheerfully proclaimed. "Fine morning, don't you think? I've been up here for a few hours and not one of you ever bothered to look this way, so I had to get your attention."

Her Norse was pretty good, so Hiccup's bafflement had nothing to do with translation errors. Where did she come from? Their camp was so remote that no one could just happen upon them.

Toothless snarled up at the interloper and started getting that fiery-death look in his eyes. Hiccup put a hand out to him and whispered, "Toothless, no fireballs. It's too easy to start a forest fire here."

"Stop looking so alarmed, will you?" continued the woman. "If I wanted to harm you guys, your buddy would be on the ground with an arrow through his chest."

"That doesn't make me feel better," said Nestor.

"Who are you, and what do you want?" asked Astrid.

"I'm a thief, what else?" said the thief. "And I want to look through your stuff and take a memento home with me. I would've done it more clandestinely but your dragon freaks me out. Didn't want him waking up and toasting my buns. So if you'll hand over something pricey and rare, I'll be out of your hair."

"Is she for real?" Astrid muttered to Hiccup.

"These arrows are," commented Nestor. "They bypassed my barrier field. She's no common thief."

"What do we do?" asked Hiccup.

"Keep her talking," Nestor said. "Let's see where this goes." Hiccup and Astrid had nothing better to suggest, so Hiccup sighed and took a few steps toward the thief, hoping to draw her attention while Nestor worked at freeing himself.

"Let's be clear about this," Hiccup shouted to the tree-loving thief. "We give you our valuables and you don't shoot us right here and now?"

"Something like that," she replied. "Just bring out your worldly possessions and I'll choose a trinket."

"I don't know who you think we are," yelled Hiccup, "but most of our worldly possessions are spare parts." He lifted his metal leg up so she could get a good look. "A leg like this doesn't grow on trees."

"I'm not here to steal your leg out from under you," said the thief, acting insulted. "I just want something I can remember you guys by. It's not every day four Vikings and a dragon walk into Weed."

"I'm not a Viking," protested Nestor.

"Details," said the thief. "Point is…" The thief's cheerful disposition suddenly became more serious as she began to realize a serious oversight. "Wait… _four_ Vikings and a dragon? Where's…?"

The answer to her unfinished question came in the form of a whirling dagger, coming from out of nowhere and arcing in the air up towards the thief. But Saga's mercy was on display as it missed the woman and found her perch. Flashing silver met branch and severed it from the tree, gravity taking over and toppling the thief.

She didn't topple far, thanks to another thick branch below her. The thief grabbed it with both arms, a stunned expression erasing her cocky cheerfulness, the arrow dropping from her hands but her bow still in possession. Then the surprise faded as she swung her body back, then forward, letting go at the apex of her swing and landing gracefully on a third branch, causing every loose pine needle on the branch to shower downward in protest.

A second dagger swept through the air, aiming at her new perch. The thief wasn't about to have the rug pulled out from under her a second time, an arrow in her hands and notched to her bow before anyone could blink. One snap shot later, the arrow collided straight on with the dagger and diverted it, the dagger slashing a great rent in the tree trunk before falling to the dirt.

Saga stepped out from her hiding spot behind a nearby spruce, holding her first dagger. She cocked her arm but held onto her dagger, watching the thief with her patented icy stare, measuring her.

"Ooo, sneaky," said the thief, not quite impressed but not quite dismissive either. "And I thought this was going to be boring."

"Surrender now, and I will show mercy," ordered Saga. "I give my word upon this."

"Better take her up on that offer," said Hiccup, relieved at Saga's timely appearance. "She doesn't fool around."

"Good," said the thief, her free hand palming something that had an odd glittery sparkle to it, even in the shade. "Neither do I."

She cocked her hand back, going for another arrow in her quiver… or appearing to. Saga was prepared for the obvious and made to throw her dagger, but the thief abruptly snapped her hand forward, a spurt of glitter erupting into the path of a nearby sunbeam. Hiccup realized the thief had her eyes closed as the dust touched the sunbeam, a wise move as several strobe-like flashes materialized where the glitter hit the light, making everyone wince, look away, or cover their eyes.

Through minute gaps in his covering fingers, Hiccup watched Saga's dagger go aloft, but her blinded aim was off and took out the wrong branch. The thief was already on the move, swinging and jumping from branch to branch as she fled back into the forest, moving down the hillside before finding a thicker swath of bramble to scramble behind.

She almost made it before a determined growl got her attention. Toothless was airborne and coming right at her, his reptilian eyes quick to recover from the flash-powder, Hiccup protesting futilely for his dragon to wait. It was never a smart move to threaten a Night Fury's best friend, and he barreled right at the thief, his front legs poised to nab her.

Pivoting on a branch no thicker than her wrist, the thief whirled around and targeted the dragon, her bow at the ready. The notched arrow left the bow a split-second later, flying past Toothless's meaty parts and hitting his false tail, right in the central hinge, jamming it fast. The thief ducked as the surprised Night Fury overshot her, unable to turn as he blew through dozens of dense branches, cracking and snapping them off as he fell back to earth. More bramble suffered as Toothless skidded across the forest duff, halting before the base of a large pine, dazed and growling with frustration, his thick hide having spared him injury. By the time he had his full wits back, the thief had fled on.

"Sister, grab your axe," said Saga as she retrieved her daggers. "We cannot let this one go."

Hiccup ran up to the edge of the clearing close to Saga, concerned for his impulsive dragon friend. He spotted Toothless down the hill, covered in sticky branches and none too happy. He didn't like this one bit – the thief had known where to hit Toothless, and her aim was impeccable. Smart and capable – a deadly combination.

"I think we should let her go," he said. "She's too much trouble."

"She knows our location," countered Saga, "and she may be in league with others. We cannot risk it."

"I'm with her," said Astrid, running up to them with her myssteel axe in hand. "You and Toothless try to get in front of her and cut off her escape route."

"She took out Toothless's rudder," said Hiccup. "You two should wait until…"

Saga indicated she wasn't waiting by… not waiting. Zipping into the forest at a serious clip, Saga charged ahead after her quarry. Astrid shrugged helplessly and ran off after her, leaving Hiccup with no choice but to wait for Toothless to climb back up to the camp. It was too steep to climb down directly, especially with a metal leg that didn't pivot at all.

A triumphant grunt behind Hiccup indicated that Nestor had pulled himself off the cabin wall. Running up to Hiccup, Nestor held up one of the arrows that had driven through his shirtsleeves. The perplexed look on his face made Hiccup's anxiety bump up a notch, but the real kicker was the silvery shine on the arrowhead in Nestor's hands. Hiccup had seen way too much myssteel not to instantly recognize it.

"That explains how she got past your field," said Hiccup, remembering the brief education he'd gotten about treated myssteel and its effect on magic.

"Never seen anything like this," said Nestor. "Who makes myssteel arrowheads? Good way to waste valuable metal if you lose your arrows."

"Definitely not your common thief," agreed Hiccup, hoping Saga and Astrid hadn't bitten off too much to chew.

* * *

Not expecting an easy chase, Astrid had resigned herself to a long jog through the bramble and duff while the fleeing thief did her tree-hopping routine. She was a few steps behind Saga, following her trail precisely so as not to trip over any pesky rocks or exposed tree roots. She figured that any thief as skilled and brazen as this one would be staying well out of their reach, and that tracking her was the only chance of catching her.

That's why she accidentally yelped when Saga halted abruptly, causing Astrid to run right into her. Or she would have, had Saga not whirled around a tree while simultaneously grabbing Astrid's right arm and pulling her against the grainy bark like an overprotective mother.

"A little warning, next time?" said Astrid. Saga replied with a finger to her lips. Astrid got the idea and buttoned it.

Saga poked her head around the tree for several seconds, then motioned for Astrid to do the same. Astrid did so. She thought she understood Saga's erratic behavior when she spotted an unexplored clearing thirty yards ahead of them, one with a stream of burbling water running right through it. While it was the same stream they used for water, it was further upstream than they usually traveled. At the top of a pine near the perimeter of the clearing, several bushy branches were bent over as if something bulky clung to them. They obscured whatever it was, though.

"You think that's her?" whispered Astrid.

"Undoubtedly," answered Saga. "Her trail ends there. Nowhere to go but an exposed clearing."

"So we're waiting here because…"

"She hides to disguise her intentions. She intends to ambush us and end our pursuit." Ducking back behind the tree with Astrid, Saga narrowed her eyes as she thought out an attack plan. "We are right at the edge of my throwing range, but I doubt the thief will have such problems from the high ground. I need a diversion. Run to the side, as if you intend to flank her." She looked at Astrid expectantly, to which Astrid responded with a dirty look.

"Why am I automatically the diversion?" Astrid demanded. "I can throw as well as you can."

"I can intercept her arrows with my daggers. Can you with your axe?"

"Well… probably not. We use shields back home."

"We did not bring shields."

"Exactly, which is why I'm not going to play decoy without one. She's a mean shot."

"Will you trust me on this?" Saga's tone had grown curt, her daggers clinking together and tapping out an impatient rhythm. "I will ensure your safety."

"My dad taught me that a cornered dragon is the worst kind to fight. That goes with everything else, especially thieves with wicked aim."

"Really, girls?" came a distant feminine voice from up ahead. "You two pick _now_ to have a best-friend bicker fest?"

"Now she has heard us," scolded Saga. "Surprise is gone. Congratulations."

"Oh, like she didn't know where we were already," argued Astrid.

"Why don't you two come on out and we can negotiate over this impasse?" yelled out the thief. "I really don't want to hurt anyone, but I'm not in the mood to get caught today. Plus I still don't have my memento for the occasion."

"You are not in any position to negotiate," answered Saga. "You are trapped in a high tree with only one predictable path of escape, and that path will be cut off as soon as our friends arrive."

"Maybe," said the thief, sounding less confident than before. "But they're not here yet and I have you two in my sights. That tree won't protect you."

"She has to be bluffing," whispered Astrid. "This tree's two feet thick."

Astrid changed her mind on the matter about the same time a whistling arrow popped out of the trunk and whipped over her head, so close that she felt the breeze from its passing. Behind them, the arrow collided with another tree and dug in all the way to its feathers.

"Uh… uh… ah…" stammered Astrid.

Saga sighed in resignation and moved out into full view, pulling the still-stammering Astrid with her. The thief poked her neck out of her branchy hiding spot, making it look like the tree had grown a human head.

"See? Here we are, exposing our soft little underbellies," commented the thief. "Now, on the subject of mementoes, I'm thinking one of those flying daggers."

"They part with me upon my death," said Saga. Astrid cringed – not the best thing to say.

"Oh, why so serious?" said the thief with a smile. "A gal like you could find a suitable replacement in no time. But if you're going to get all martyr about it, how about your friend's silver axe?"

"_My_ weapon?" said Astrid, reflexively holding her axe to her chest. "It's… got sentimental value."

"That's a real shame," said the thief. "Normally I don't steal sentimental stuff. But I need to take something to make this side trip worthwhile and your friend's too much of a hard case to _YIPE_!"

The thief's head vanished into the branches with such abruptness that Astrid and Saga stood their ground, confused, thinking this was some new game on the thief's part. The tree swayed and rocked as some struggle occurred on the other side of the tree, the thief's muffled cries suggesting that this was not part of the plan. Seizing on the moment, Astrid and Saga exchanged quick nods as they raced to the thief's tree, their weapons at the ready. Either the thief had run afoul of some tree-dwelling creature and was having a bad time of it, or one of the gang had snuck up on her from behind.

At the base of the tree, the two of them had a good view of the thief's plight, the tussle in the tree largely settling down. The cocky thief hung upside down, her hair flopping around below her head, her body suspended not from a branch but from literally nowhere. Her bow was likewise floating in midair a few feet away. Complete and utter surprise adorned the thief's face, and Astrid couldn't help but laugh at the sight. Saga, always less-than-amused by most things, managed to crack a smile.

The culprit finally dropped his Shroud, his tail wrapped around the thief's legs as he gently flapped his way down from the tree to land before the two girls. Arc plopped the thief in front of him and glared at the interloper, who shrank under his gaze and desperately tried to get back to her feet despite Arc's tail preventing such an action.

"C'mon, girls," she pleaded, "Why are you just standing there? Angry dragon!"

"He's not angry," Astrid replied. "He's always like that."

"Indeed," said Arc. "But you wouldn't want to see me angry."

The thief's face became a scrunched up thing, a result of trying to absorb several revelations all at once. A common reaction when one heard Arc speak for the first time. But the thief took it pretty well, settling on simple surprise after a few seconds of facial contortions.

"You talk?" she managed to say. "That's… very interesting."

"As I'm sure your story will be," replied Arc, his voice completely lacking in pleasantries.


	6. Good Human, Bad Dragon

**Author's Notes:** Well, I wouldn't say this story is taking off like the first one in terms of stats, but feedback has been all positive. My loyal readers shouldn't worry. Even if the readership gets down to single digits (no, we're not there, thankfully), I do plan on finishing this series. I'm well on course to finishing this story before the first twelve chapters are released. It never hurts to submit a review or send off a email, though.

Also, a question: do people like stories released all at once, or are people okay with the chapter-a-week format? It won't affect how I do this story (considering it's not all done yet), but input might affect how I put out future submissions.

Onwards.

**Chapter Five: Good Human, Bad Dragon**

"It hasn't even been a _day_ yet."

Nestor took the disapproving statement like he'd taken the last fifty disapproving statements from Arc – quietly and passively. But this time out, Arc's words were aimed at the four young humans standing before him, so he didn't feel singled out for a change.

Nestor couldn't tell if Arc's mood was angry or just plain irritable, the old dragon keeping his voice low to avoid being overheard by their "guest" back at the cabin. Toothless had guard duty, keeping a vigilant eye on the thief who had volunteered the name of Qiao so that they wouldn't have to call her "the thief" all the time. She sat against the western wall of the cabin, bound at the wrists. Her gear had been confiscated and was currently being searched thoroughly, Arc inspecting Qiao's quiver in particular, holding it between two claws and scratching at the sides of the container with his other claw-hand. He carefully raked the canvas like one might peel an orange; as if there was something inside it he didn't want to damage. But this being Arc, he couldn't resist taking a moment to do some berating.

"It started off as such a casual morning, too," he said. "I had a few ground squirrels, the winds were favorable, and the wolves had moved on so I didn't have to take an evasive path back here. But when I get back, what do I find? The five of you in an idiotic stalemate with a random thief. Only it wasn't a random thief because you all broke our most important ground rule! Do you four even understand the concept of covert action? Did I not make it plain?"

"Well, to be fair, the villagers were pretty hospitable," said Hiccup, who had Qiao's bow in his hands, hoping to find some mystical quality to it. So far, nothing but ordinary wood and binding, though well crafted and cared for. "And they liked our money."

"They liked _my_ money," replied Arc, who then shot a very specific glare at Nestor. "And you know better."

"Not my fault… entirely," replied Nestor. "I… got outvoted. But Hiccup's right. It turns out that villagers here aren't the hate-first-and-ask-questions-later types from other places."

"The problem isn't the villagers," said Arc. "The more we expose ourselves, the more undesirable elements we attract." Arc whisked his tail in Qiao's direction. "Case in point. Many thugs have rules about harassing victims who share their territory, but strangers are considered fair game."

While the others exchanged chagrined looks, Saga frowned and said, "I understand discretion, Archibald, but we cannot hide from the world forever."

"Yes, yes, I know your feelings on the matter," said Arc. "Gunnarr stand proud and do not shrink from conflict. If I had that attitude, I'd have cut my lifespan down by ten centuries. You agreed to follow my lead, did you not?"

"Yes, but not to the point where we sit around and do nothing," said Saga, never one to miss a chance at arguing with Arc. "You also assume she came from the village of Weed. She couldn't have tracked us once we went airborne."

"Actually, Saga, I heard the thief say she saw us at Weed," said Astrid. "I think you missed that part while you were stalking her."

Saga's frown deepened. "Perhaps. Or she was deceiving us to hide her true affiliations."

"I want to know what's with these arrows," said Nestor, who had a few of said arrows in his hands. Astrid and Saga each had one, all from the quiver in Arc's possession. Unlike the two arrows pulled from cabin, the arrowheads were standard steel and dull as spoons. "These ones couldn't penetrate a tomato, much less my barrier. What did she do with her myssteel arrowheads?"

"We could, I don't know, ask her," said Hiccup. "She is right there."

"And what lies would she tell us?" said Saga.

"A lie that covers where she found this," replied Arc, ripping the canvas covering off the quiver to reveal the true material – solid myssteel. The others watched as Arc took an arrow from Nestor, dipped it headfirst into the quiver to its full length and closed his eyes. A faint flicker of white light came forth from the inside of the quiver, dying off silently as Arc removed the arrow and presented it back to Nestor. In his amazement over the discovery, Nestor fumbled the transformed arrow in his hands as he passed it around the group. It was hard to mistake the changed quality of the arrowhead.

"It changes metal into myssteel?" said Astrid, utterly blown away. As far as she knew, or anyone else in the group for that matter, myssteel was something you could heat and mold but not create. An art lost to a cataclysmic war in the distant past.

"Nothing like that," said Arc. "This is an old Artisan weapon, not as sophisticated or flashy as a Guardian but effective in its own right. The bottom of the cylinder has a reservoir of metal that becomes molten when activated. It then bonds with another metal object, coats its, makes it far more dangerous. Unfortunately, the reservoir eventually runs out, rendering it useless over time." His reptilian eyes held a spark of curiosity. "I've never encountered one of these in person before. They were supposed to have been all used up millennia ago."

Nestor hadn't heard any of this before, but then he usually didn't run into ancient Artisan artifacts that weren't animated and hostile. It did explain what Qiao's aim was so good – outside of years and years of training, of course.

A few weeks back, Astrid had asked Arc about her axe and why it came back to her hand after a good throw. Nestor had overheard the answer – myssteel formed a mental bond with its wielder that allowed for a certain degree of extraordinary control. Like Saga, Astrid could will her axe back to her because it _wanted_ to come back. That control also improved one's aim, and the longer you spent with a particular weapon or device, the more control you gained. Saga had spent years with her daggers, which was why they were practically extensions of her own body.

Saga had also listened in but hadn't liked the explanation, stating that the Gods showed her the way to her daggers and it was _their_ will that guided her hands, not the soulless metal in her blades. Arc had snickered but chose not to engage her in debate over the issue, which angered Saga even further. Arc always got under her skin because he wouldn't give her the respect she thought she deserved. He trusted her visions, but not without a lot of skepticism.

Hiccup took the metallic quiver from Arc and scrutinized it, running his hands along its gleaming sides. "It has more luster than most of the other samples I've worked with. It feels smoother, almost like there's grease built into the surface. It doesn't look or feel thousands of years old. It looks _new_… well, _newer_. Is it possible that someone's figured out how to make this stuff?"

"Highly doubtful," said Arc. "No Hyperion alive knows the process and the Artisan Empire guarded its trade secrets to the bitter end."

"What if they put the knowledge into one of those whatdayacallits?" asked Astrid. "You know, those halls… Shadow Halls? You'd think that'd be the one secret they wouldn't want to lose."

"It's also the one secret you wouldn't want falling into the wrong hands," Arc explained. "It's better to extinguish some secrets than to let them become the tools of your enemies." Arc took a long look at their captive, his expression lost in thoughtful consideration. "Despite your ill-conceived actions from yesterday, this might prove a useful development."

He looked straight at Nestor and said, "How about a little good-human, bad-dragon?"

"Okay, but I get to be the good human this time," quipped Nestor.

* * *

Angry victims, angry guards, angry mobs, angry weather – Qiao had faced all sorts of threats over her career as a thief.

A dragon? Not as bad as the time she had spurned the advances of the Cutthroat Gang's obese leader and wound up hiding under a blanket of moldy rugs in Riki Poka's central garbage dump for two days to escape the leader's retributive goons, but back then she knew how to handle egotistical crime bosses. She generally didn't deal with dragons, especially the talkative types.

Thankfully, the black dragon watching her didn't seem angry. It looked at her distrustfully with its large yellow eyes, sitting on his haunches while she sat on her rear. Her hands were tied in front of her so that they were visible. Thieves had a reputation as escape artists and this bunch was taking that reputation seriously.

"I hope it's not ruined," said Qiao to the black dragon. "Your rudder, I mean. It's a good piece of engineering. It was either shoot that or shoot something that would hurt."

Toothless shook his head, dismissing her apology, flexing his tail rudder to show the slight hitch in its movements when it tried to fully extend. The dragon was set on carrying a grudge. She almost told him to get in line, but it wasn't smart to irk a flying reptile that could flash-fry you with a cough.

Qiao had already resigned herself to the prison life for now, figuring that nightfall would give her better opportunities. She was operating on little sleep, having spent the previous night finding the camp and scouting it out, but she was used to keeping odd hours while under the influence of sleep deprivation. A good thief was an unpredictable thief. Even this doozy of a guard dog had to shut his eyes sometime.

"Would it help if I said I'm an excellent fisher?" said Qiao. "I've nailed minnows at ten yards. I'll give you your weight in fish if you chew on these ropes a little."

The dragon demonstrated his contempt for the offer with an obvious eye roll. No getting on the sweet side of this dragon, it seemed.

The conversation became moot because now that other dragon, the one called Arc, and that guy named Nestor, the one she'd arrow-pinned earlier, were approaching. Nestor told Toothless to take a break, which the dragon gladly did by sauntering over to his rider-pal, that boy with the false leg. She'd just exchanged one guard for two, except she could already tell that these two weren't here to guard her.

Arc held her special quiver in one claw-hand, the quiver lacking its concealing canvas cover. He placed it on the ground, a mere foot away from her feet. A bone for the dog, perhaps. Qiao did her best to look disinterested – the quiver was better than a best friend and she _couldn't_ lose it. It gotten her out of too many scrapes to count – and gotten her _into_ a few as well.

"How did you find us?" growled Arc.

"Your pals came to Weed," said Qiao. "I said that already."

"You couldn't have followed us from there," said Nestor. "That over twenty miles away, and we flew."

Qiao smiled. "I had help from a little stone and a dead fish. Incidentally, you might want to tell your one-legged friend over there not to worry. The stone should come out of his dragon in a day or two."

"Come out of…?" said Nestor right before he got her meaning and made a face. "Ew."

"A Trail Stone," declared Arc.

"Trail Stone?" asked Nestor.

"Another toy from the past," said Arc. "How did you intend on recovering it once it… passed through, young Qiao?"

"With patience and a shovel. Could we move on from this topic? It's getting gross."

"You must have found the Trail Stone at the same place you found this." Arc gestured to the quiver with a claw.

"Maybe, or maybe I got them on sale at a flea market," she replied. "Will there be torture or am I going to fall asleep from boredom?"

"Well, I'm not going to do anything," said Nestor. "Arc, on the other hand…"

"No torture," said Arc, immediately maneuvering a claw to snag the bindings on Qiao's hands and severing them in one quick yank, the ropes falling away with ease. Both Nestor and Qiao adopted highly confused expressions as Qiao slowly got to her feet, rubbing her wrists while staring questioningly at the dragon.

"Uh, Old Man?" muttered Nestor. "I think you've mixed up who's the bad dragon here."

"We don't have the time or resources to watch over you," said Arc to Qiao, ignoring Nestor's comment. "Nor do I desire to hurt you. You have done us no permanent injury, so you are free to leave. But if you ever come back, I will not be so merciful."

"Really?" She couldn't believe her good fortune. Thieves never got turned loose unscathed – doing so was just… dumb. Then her elation faded. There had to be a catch involved. She looked at her quiver, which the dragon held under one claw-hand. He wasn't moving to give it to her.

"I'm leaving empty-handed, aren't I?" she reasoned. The nod from Arc confirmed it.

If Nestor wasn't yet on the same page as his dragon friend, he was quick to adapt. "You have your freedom and all your limbs," he offered positively. "That's a pretty good outcome considering who you're dealing with here." He not-so-subtlety hinted in Arc's direction.

"But I _need_ my gear," she pleaded. "You don't know how cutthroat the thieving industry is… literally."

"Perhaps a change of career is in order," said Arc. "I hear serving maids are always in demand."

The glare from Qiao indicated she was nowhere near amused, but her glare softened as she recognized the futility of getting angry. "Okay, I know where this is going, so let's skip to the end. What do you want in trade for my gear?"

"For starters, how about you answer some questions about where you got your…" began Nestor, but Arc cut him off with an out-of-the-blue inquiry.

"Do you have any contacts in Riki Poka?" he asked. "Preferably ones with access to a ship, one that makes private voyages away from public manifests?"

Qiao wasn't the only one to look at Arc strangely. Qiao shrugged and said, "Forgive me if I'm ignorant of the habits of dragons and their companions, but why would you need a ship when you have airborne transportation?"

"Our reasons are private," replied Arc. "Can you or can you not?"

"I suppose I do know somebody," she said. "He's a little… different, but he keeps things under-the-cloak, if you know what I mean."

"Is he trustworthy?"

"I trust him," she replied, "though I'll understand if that doesn't mean much to you."

Arc put on his best I'm-very-old-and-very-powerful dragon face and said, "If you can do this task, we will give you back your quiver and most of your possessions with no further conditions or attachments."

"Most?"

"The Trail Stone is forfeit. A reminder of the perils of your profession. Bear in mind that should any betrayals befall us, losing your possessions will be the _least_ of your problems."

Qiao felt well and properly intimidated by Arc's piercing stare, but she forced a smile to her face in the hopes that she wouldn't appear too intimidated. "I figured that was a given. Well, if that's the deal, then that's the deal. It's quite the walk to Riki Poka, so I better get a move on and…"

"You're staying in our custody," declared Arc, his tone implying that this was not a discussion.

"I am?" she said.

"She is?" said Nestor.

"We will travel to Riki Poka together," continued Arc. "This day, in fact. You are free to roam as you will, and you are free to leave at any time. Just understand that our deal is forfeit if you do. I will give you two hours to rest up before we go." Arc grabbed up the quiver and handed it to Nestor, who could only shake his head in utter bewilderment. "The quiver stays with me for now, and should anything go missing in our camp it will be the first of your possessions I destroy."

Nestor threw her a piece of jerky right before the two of them left to rejoin the others in the background. True to Arc's word, the black dragon did not come back to guard her. She had a free path out of the camp, for all the good it did her. Without her gear, she might as well retire from thievery and join a monastery. Heck, she'd have trouble just leaving the forest with all those blasted wolves running around. She had to chase off a pack just to get here.

She needed her gear back. Which meant playing this game for now. Honestly, she didn't mind that much. She needed a place to lie low until the heat from her last heist cooled, and this bunch was interesting to be around. Mr. Uptight Dragon was certainly full of himself, but he didn't sense any maliciousness in him. That put him above most of her past clients and crime bosses.

With nothing better to do, she slumped back against the cabin and chewed on her apportioned jerky, hoping that she hadn't just promised more than she could deliver.

* * *

Once Arc and Nestor were safely out of earshot of the thief and back with the others, the questions were immediate.

"Why is our guest untied?" Astrid asked, sneaking glances at Qiao.

"Why is she unguarded?" Saga demanded.

"Why did you give her jerky?" Hiccup inquired.

"Ask him," said Nestor, referring to his dragon mentor. "He's the one holding back information… as usual. Also, not a good session of good-human, bad-dragon."

"Apologies for not disclosing my intentions ahead of time," said Arc. "My decision concerning Qiao was spur of the moment."

"You think?" said Nestor. "Now we have a thief to keep us company, and for what, a boat ride?"

"We what?" said Saga angrily.

"For what?" said Astrid.

"This conversation has some major holes in it," commented Hiccup.

Always the dutiful dragon, Toothless had planned on going back to guarding their unwanted visitor but never got the signal to do so. He reacted to the escalating tension by sidling up next to Hiccup and watching everyone with an expression somewhere between confused and curious.

"Perhaps the excitement of the morning has made you all forget why I was absent yesterday," said Arc. "If you can all be quiet simultaneously for once, I will explain." They all silenced, though the baffled and expectant stares didn't let up. Of all of Arc's tendencies, the one where he doled out information on a need-to-know basis was the most maddening, especially since his circle of need-to-know usually meant Arc and no one else.

"I successfully met with another Hyperion by the name of Adonis," he began, "and while he didn't have insights into our quest, he did name a place that might – the Repository."

'Is this something old, big, Artisan, and deadly?" said Hiccup. "Because I've had my fill of those for one lifetime."

"It's not a weapon, if that's your fear," assured Arc. "It was once considered a great place of knowledge by the Artisans and Ancestors alike. It housed the totality of the Artisans' culture and history, as well as much of their technology and crafting skills. It was even rumored that one part of the Repository was created to safeguard the Empire's most dire secrets, ones the Artisan Lords didn't want becoming known to even their own people. It was said to have been relocated at the beginning of the End War."

"As in they moved all the books out of the building?" asked Nestor.

"As in the entire Repository and the island it resided on ceased to exist," clarified Arc. "Not on any known map, in any case."

"The Artisans never thought small, did they?" remarked Astrid. "So did it become one of those Shadow Halls?"

"That was something the Ancestors never found out," said Arc. "Thus we, the Hyperions, never learned of its hiding spot. Up until yesterday, I believed the tale was as fantastical as your average three-headed human. A conspiracy theory that transformed into a myth over time, a snipe hunt with a treasure trove of potentially world-changing secrets at the end."

"But someone must have found its location," said Saga, "or we wouldn't be having this conversation."

"Latimar discovered it," said Arc. "According to Adonis, Latimar went on a hunt for the Repository centuries ago because he believed it contained information about the land he had originally traveled from… perhaps even knowledge on what ultimately consumed it. He eventually found the island, got what he needed from it, and concealed the Repository once more. He must have been satisfied with his findings, or terrified of them, because he never told a soul what he found inside."

"Hold on there," said Hiccup. "Red De… uh, Latimar was the size of a mountain. How could he get inside without wrecking the place?"

"Remember how he could sway the minds of other dragons?" said Arc. "He undoubtedly used helpers in his exploration of the Repository. Keep in mind that he was a Hyperion before you encountered him, and he had his own share of unique tricks."

"But if Latimar knew, then Cervantes had to have known about it," said Nestor. "You'd think Cervantes would've gone after something as tempting as the Repository."

"Cervantes _didn't_ know about it," said Arc. "Not long before Cervantes stole his essence, Latimar had begun to suspect that his former protégée had dark designs on him. Latimar decided to conduct a memory purge on himself, though not before revealing the location of the Repository to Adonis."

"You guys can forget things on purpose?" asked Hiccup.

"Better to bury some secrets, Young Hiccup." Arc's face fell as he continued. "I may have ruined my friendship with Adonis, but he did tell me the location. It's out to sea, somewhere in the Mediterranean. I have a general idea where to go, but it's too far out over open water for us to fly out, conduct a lengthy search, and return. That's why we need a ship, and why we need someone like Qiao."

"Do you have any idea of what's contained inside the Repository?" asked Nestor.

"None," said Arc. "The only reason I'm entertaining this idea is because Latimar saw a need to go there."

"And you know how to get inside, right?" asked Astrid.

Arc's headshake was not very comforting. "Adonis said that Latimar figured it out after he found the site, so I assume we can do the same."

"So let us be clear, then," said Saga, crossing her arms in a rather sour gesture of irritation. "We have to go to a mythical place of learning that may or may not have any relevance to our predicament, a place that may be extremely dangerous, not just to us but to the world. You do not exactly know where it is, you do not know how to get inside it, and we have to put our faith in the ship-securing skills of a thief we just met this morning while she was trying to _steal from us_."

"She has a point," said Hiccup, "I've had plans less risky than this blow up in my face all the time."

"I know how it sounds," argued Arc, staring right at Saga. "But tell me this: have you seen any more possibilities lately?"

You could see the angry denial bubbling on her face, the desire to shoot off a face-saving falsehood that would throw the dragon's words back in his face. But Saga was too proud to resort to such immature tactics and she merely closed her eyes and shook her head.

"Then we're out of options," said Arc, back to addressing the group as a whole. "We have spent too much time wandering in the wilderness. If this is the only lead we have, then I plan on following it. What say all of you?"

"I agree with him," said Nestor. "A crazy plan it might be, but it gets us moving again."

"Well, we didn't come out here for the happy fun times," said Hiccup. Next to him, Toothless nodded his head in agreement.

"Oh, I don't know," said Astrid, standing next to Hiccup and taking his hand in hers. "I think an ancient library of forbidden knowledge could be pretty fun to visit when you're with the right people. I just hope it's warmer than the last secret island we visited."

"You're way too positive about this, you know," said Hiccup, who couldn't help but smile.

Arc looked pleased by the outpouring of diffused-yet-earnest support from his friends, but it was hard to miss the growing scowl on Saga's face. "Am I the only one here who thinks the flaws in this plan will get us all killed?" said Saga coolly. "For starters, Qiao cannot be trusted."

"Qiao is my responsibility," said Arc. "I will ensure that she doesn't betray us."

"All the time, even in civilization?" said Saga.

"We've trusted your insight this far," said Arc. "It's time for you to trust mine."

It didn't sound like Arc was slighting her, it wasn't his usual dismissive tone, but Saga took it as such, her scowl deepening. "Fine. As this is the will of our group, I will follow this path to its bitter end. But I will keep an eye on this thief as well, and if I catch her doing any harm, she will not have a chance to try again." She then stormed off, presumably to sulk or meditate or punish something out in the forest.

"I should probably…" began Nestor, about to walk off after her, but Astrid intercepted him with an outstretched hand.

"Give her time," she said. "When she gets that mad, things around her tend to come apart at the seams." Nestor reluctantly agreed and aborted his pursuit.

"We can't give her too much time," said Arc. "We leave within two hours."

"Two hours?" said Hiccup, the others mirroring his surprise except for Nestor, who nodded his head in agreement.

"I don't wish to give Qiao the opportunity to plan more mischief," the dragon explained. "And we've lost too much time already. Two hours. Be ready by then." He moved off to attend to some personal dragon hygiene business deeper in the forest.

"Guess we're going to see the city sooner than we thought," said Astrid.

"Let's just hope they're as friendly as advertised," remarked Hiccup. He looked over at Toothless and said, "And this time, bud, you're going to have to stay out of town." The dragon gave him a puppy-dog-level look of disappointment. Hiccup patted him and added, "This isn't a pleasure trip, bud. If it's safe, we'll bring you in next time."

Nestor listened absently, his mind on other matters. Once again, Arc had treated him like an ignorant protégée, not like a supposed partner-in-action. In the process, they now had a shady addition to their team and a miffed Seer, all before a spontaneous trip to a major beacon of civilization… with lots and lots of people.

While the Fates-directed course of events coming their way in Riki Poka had yet to transpire, the morning's theme of chaos and surprise was not a good omen.


	7. Riki Poka

**Yeah,** **Author's Note:** Based on the replies I got, I've decided to stick to my one-chapter-a-week schedule. Thank you to those folks who gave me their two-cents' worth.

And that's all I got.

Onwards.

**Chapter Six: Riki Poka**

Awe-inspiring majestic vistas are all well and good when you viewed them for the first time, but it'd been some time since Hiccup had felt the emotional rush of seeing a new landscape, something other than horizon-spanning oceans and frigid snowscapes and living green forests.

He'd been hoping for new scenery on this trip. A desert with miles and miles of skin-colored sand, or maybe a canyon that Toothless could daredevil his way through, skimming the edges at a perilous speed. But the Mainland didn't have a lot of that, and they'd have to go further southeast to find such "panoramic eyesores," according to Arc.

Failing that, he wanted to see real civilization. No more mud-covered villages and mud-covered villagers. He wanted to see all those great cities that Vikings historically traded with… or raided, if your clan had _that_ type of Viking. Berk had been so focused on fighting dragons that most native Berkians had never gotten to see those bastions of humanity that he'd read about in books or heard about in epic tales. He and Astrid were the first Berkian Vikings to come this far south in over two centuries, and he wanted a wonder or two to describe to his father and friends back home, not "well, it's a lot like home, just warmer."

High above the gray-and-green hills surrounding Riki Poka, Toothless and Arc flew in a simple formation, skirting the tops of low-hanging clouds so to grant them some cover. As usual, Astrid was with Hiccup on their two-seater. Nestor and Saga rode on Arc, as did Qiao, who had gotten the front seat due to no one trusting her at their back. Her enthusiastic whoops of delight during Arc's hard turns and steep dives signaled a new convert to the benefits of dragon riding.

The weather had given them the best circumstances desirable, partly cloudy but no serious wind to fight against. Arc remained completely visible, as he couldn't Shroud effectively with passengers onboard.

"How are we supposed to find the city through all these clouds?" Astrid asked into Hiccup's ear.

"From what Qiao told us, it's a hard place to miss," he answered.

Indeed, it wasn't.

One of the clouds ahead proved thinner and transparent, allowing the flyers a foggy glimpse of the coast ahead of them. Only it wasn't so much a coast as a constant parade of buildings and homes, spreading out along a humongous bay encapsulated by a string of dockyards. A vast sea of civilization living side-by-side to another vast sea, where the waves were composed of brick, mortar, and stone, the crests composed of tall, elegant, fortress-like mansions and the valleys made of squat straw-roofed cabins and cottages.

A steady flow of ships traveled the bay, tiny one-person fishermen vessels competing with massive oar-powered warships. The bay was so congested that there should have been a collision every other second, yet there was a semblance of order to the apparent chaos as ships gave and pursued the right of way through the crowded waters.

The city had grown around the bay, but not very far inland. A series of steep hills had created natural barriers to land travel, though a few ill-kept dirt trails could be spotted weaving wildly through the terrain. Almost no one was on the trails, but there were a pair of roads flanking the city, narrow passes between the hills choked with dusty wagons and dusty people. It explained why the place was a port – the best way to get to Riki Poka was by boat… unless you knew how to fly in.

People – or at least lots and lots of moving dots presumed to be people. Mingling on the streets, in the open places, between the buildings. Everywhere Hiccup looked, there were people. Enough to fill a hundred Berks.

Now _there_ was a wonder he could take back home. There really was a grand world outside Berk, and it was busy and populated and enticing. He had to resist the impulse to steer Toothless right for the city, so eager he was to get down there and see it up close.

"Wow!" said Astrid, hugging him from behind in her excitement. "We've been missing out. We could spend months here."

The curious creature he was, Toothless got caught up in the fascination of watching thousands of people milling about their lives and forgot about keeping with Arc. Hiccup, also enthralled, didn't catch his wayward drift toward the city and thousands of potential witnesses. It wasn't until Nestor called out to them that Toothless woke up and swerved to follow Arc. The green dragon was heading to one of the flanking hills, to an unpopulated place on the ground where they might land covertly.

Hiccup already knew he was going to get into trouble here. There was going to be too much to see and nowhere near enough time. He almost wished something would pop out of the blue to ruin the moment, because he was already having a hard time focusing on the mission ahead.

* * *

Distraction serves to create blind spots in your perception, causing you to miss things that an alert mind would catch. But even if Hiccup and the others hadn't had the immense distraction of Riki Poka on their minds, this particular "thing" would have been hard for anyone to catch.

If you were used to the specific distortion patterns of a Shroud, then you might have had a chance. Except it wasn't a Shroud. It was better than that. No fuzzy vision effect here. It was as close to true invisibility as one might achieve.

The "thing" passed under the two airborne dragons as quietly as a mouse on a mattress, getting a good view of the two dragons and their riders. They were to be monitored, but they were not the real targets/ The real objective rode on the green dragon, making lots of noise and clearly unconcerned for her safety. It could have taken action with impunity and surprise, if so ordered. But it was on an observe-and-study operation and it always followed orders to the letter.

The Alchemist deserved such loyalty. It would die before it disobeyed her.

Confident in its impenetrable concealment, it failed to notice the cloud as it banked for a second approach, carelessly flying into the thick plume of billowy moisture. It emerged with its form outlined in glistening wetness, visible as a wispy shadow of its true image.

It felt the drops coating its body and panicked. To be seen now would be to fail the Alchemist! It immediately went diving deeper into the cloudbank to hide its mistake. Barreling out the other side, out of sight of its objective, it ramped up its speed to fling the droplets off, air-drying, racing further away from its target in the process.

When its wet outline faded into nonexistence and the concealment returned in full, it realized how off-course it had gotten. Panicking a second time, it raced back to find its chosen targets. Thankfully, the dragons had not made any serious changes in direction and were now landing in the hills near the outskirts of the human city. That would make this operation that much easier – though, alas, not as interesting.

It would spend the next few hours circling the city like a vulture, granting a spying eye to its master. It knew its place. It wouldn't complain or grumble or deviate from its duty, regardless of boredom or discomfort.

Its place was always where the Alchemist asked it to be.

* * *

Arc had held back most of his tongue concerning the other's ill-advised foray to Weed, mostly because the trip had turned up an unexpected bonus. Whether or not Qiao could live up to her end of the bargain remained to be seen, but she was currently their best shot at securing transportation.

That is, provided Saga didn't kill their chances by killing Qiao.

Arc stood in the middle of the tiny clearing and waited for the others to finish their little routines and rituals. Not far away, Astrid was helping Hiccup butter up Toothless into another bout of lonely solitude in the wilds. Thanks to their uneventful trip to Weed, Toothless wasn't as understanding about staying on the down low. They had brought a basket of fish to placate him, which usually did the trick, but the Night Fury was going to guilt Hiccup hard this time out before he relented.

In the opposite direction, Qiao was obeying nature's call behind a fir tree, Saga keeping a close (but not too close) eye on her. "You guys fly around all the time?" Arc overheard her saying to Saga. "Awesome. Just awesome."

"You get used to it," Saga sourly replied.

Saga was both the best and worst person to be guarding Qiao – she wouldn't shirk her commitment, but she might overreact at any perceived sign of mischief. Arc grimaced as he acknowledged the flaw in his plan – he couldn't monitor the situation in the city constantly, which meant he wouldn't be able to stop Saga if she unilaterally decided Qiao had to die. Every time she looked at Qiao it was as if she was thinking of clever ways to display her remains.

"There's a trail down the slope that takes us right to town," said Nestor, walking up to him after scouting the immediate area Shrouded. Arc knew this as Nestor had forgotten to drop it, his body little more than a human-shaped heat mirage. "Qiao's telling the truth so far."

"She claims she uses the trail to enter and leave Riki Poka," said Arc. "It's seldom traveled as the trail is steep and the soil is loose."

"Sounds like a fun hike," said Nestor dryly. He then waved his hand in front of his head and groaned as he realized his oversight. "How long were you going to go on without telling me?"

"Until I was no longer amused," said Arc, smiling as Nestor's body materialized properly.

"_Salo krebit_," said Nestor. "Spent all that time learning to turn it on, now I have trouble turning it off. It'd be easier if there was a buzz or a weird feeling that went with it."

"I'd give you a hint," said Arc, "but I'm no longer your teacher. Best you figure it out for yourself."

"Ah, yeah, about that," said Nestor. "You know, partners _tell_ each other important things _before_ they go making their partners look like idiots."

Arc narrowed his eyes at his friend. "They also don't go running off on foolish outings."

"Not the same thing. I trust you when you're off on your errands."

"That's because, unlike you, I've been doing errands for a very long time." When Nestor shook his head in sad exasperation, Arc felt his crusty heart soften. This conversation felt way too familiar. He had told himself he wasn't going back to treating Nestor like a dumb kid. After everything they'd been through, the boy didn't deserve it.

He wasn't really a boy anymore, either. Perhaps it was time to address that.

Arc tried his best to look apologetic and said, "You do have a point. I didn't tell you what you needed to know, and that's not what partners do. That was not fair of me."

He looked at Nestor as if expecting a word of equal contrition. Nestor sighed. "Look, I get that it was stupid of us to go to Weed. In my defense, I did try…"

"Someone has to be in charge while I'm gone," interrupted Arc. "Someone has to keep everyone from making unnecessary mistakes. Going into Weed wasn't the mistake. Going into Weed as conspicuously as a traveling carnival was. You knew that – you should have prevented that."

"Me?" said Nestor. "You're saying I should've manned up and taken charge?" Arc's nod threw Nestor into obvious confusion. He clearly didn't know whether to take the comment as criticism or a complement. "But… Old Man, I'm not a leader. Hiccup has spent more time being in charge of others than me."

"Hiccup has many leadership skills. Among his people, I can imagine him becoming a capable leader… though I'm not convinced he wants the job. Regardless, he is out of his element. _You_ aren't."

Nestor definitely wasn't convinced, biting his lip as he mulled over Arc's words. "I grant you that point, but that doesn't make me second-in-command by default. Besides, the others will think you're playing favorites."

"Of course I'm playing favorites," admitted Arc. "Doesn't mean I'm wrong. But we can discuss this later. For now…" Arc closed his eyes, already hating what he was about to say. "…I need your help watching Qiao."

"Ah, Saga was right, wasn't she?" Nestor lightly chided.

Now Arc was rolling his eyes. "I can watch over her while we're outside. Obviously, indoors…"

"Yeah, yeah. Not a problem, though I think Saga's already doing it for me."

"I don't trust Saga with Qiao's health."

Nestor nodded. "Definitely no love there. Maybe it's a Gunnarr thing."

Arc threw an intrigued look in Qiao's direction, though he couldn't see her clearly through the bramble of the forest. "Whatever issue Saga has with the thief, we need Qiao alive. The Artisan quiver, the flash-powder, the Trail Stone – none of that fell out of the sky at her feet."

"This is some kind of trust-building exercise, right?" asked Nestor. "You catch more mosquitoes with blood than lemon juice… or something like that."

"Indeed. Sometimes a kind word will do more than a hundred irate ones. If you will be so kind as to keep her out of mischief in the city, I will take care of the information gathering."

Arc figured the conversation was done, but Nestor didn't walk away to join the others gathering near the trail. "One last thing. Would it kill you to be nicer to Saga?"

The question perplexed Arc. Nicer to Saga? How was he bullying her? "She picks the arguments, not me."

"Agreed, but you dismiss her. You don't try to win her over."

"I don't need to win her over. As long as she plays her part…"

"She's a person, not a chess piece!" snapped Nestor, keeping his voice low. "She's frustrated, probably angry. The world she knew got tossed into the garbage pile two months ago. A little understanding couldn't hurt."

Amused by Nestor's gallant defense of the Seer, Arc snickered once and said, "She was doing her best to kill you two months ago, yet now you have become her advocate."

"She wasn't _really_ trying to kill me," replied Nestor. "She was just… trying… to… kill me… "

"I'm _dying_ to see how you spin this," laughed Arc.

Nestor signified his abandonment of his spin attempt by throwing up his hands in surrender. "Oh, you were there. You know the reasons. Point being that you should cut her some slack. Can you do that?"

"Of course," said Arc. In truth, Arc had forgiven Saga her trespasses weeks ago, mostly due to Nestor's infatuation with the young Seer. Besides, grudges can quickly become tiresome affairs. Arc knew this firsthand.

In short order, Nestor and the others began to move down the trail after saying their goodbyes to Toothless and Arc. Hiccup finally got Toothless to cooperate after promising to bring an exotic selection of fish back to him. The means by which Hiccup pacified Toothless were becoming increasingly expensive, and it was Arc that paid the butcher's bill.

Arc said his own farewell to Toothless, taking to the air in Shroud form now that he was free of riders. He felt no guilt in leaving the Night Fury behind, for while Toothless was intelligent by non-Hyperion standards, he lacked conversational skills. That was why Arc preferred the company of humans instead of other dragons… when he wanted company at all.

Overconfidence is a common flaw amongst Hyperions, and Arc suffered it in spades. Thus, it bothered him that he wasn't feeling all that confident today. Too much faith in a stranger they'd just met, one with a larcenous career and suspiciously effective tools.

This could go wrong far too easily. Too bad he had no other ideas.

* * *

It started with cobbled roads with hardly a pothole or square inch of mud along their lengths. An occasional blade of grass or weed found a home to grow in, but its lifespan was measured in days, if that, thanks to the never-ending parade of humanity inhabiting Riki Poka.

That was the very first thing Hiccup noticed as he and the others reached the edge of the city, but the roads quickly became the least intriguing detail to the newcomers.

Long bridges across a deceptively calm river, each bridge with its own current of wagons and beasts of burden or old-fashioned foot traffic. Semi-orderly rows of buildings, some stone, some brick, and some wood. Carts full of goods, some catering to necessities and others to the knick-knack and bric-a-brac buyers. Oodles of aromas, delectable odors of cooking meats jousting with the less pleasurable reminders of what livestock considered acceptable hygiene. Goats, sheep, oxen, chickens, and a few exotic types like lizards and snakes or eight-legged oversized spiders bleated and clucked and hissed and scampered about in their cages or on their tethers.

But the road said it all, as far as Hiccup was concerned. No village he'd been to thus far maintained a road like this. Always dirt, often mud, and any misshapen stones thrown in were accidental. They were constant reminders of how glad he was he could circumvent the whole traveling-on-the-ground part of traveling. Berk had no roads, but then they didn't need them for getting around the island. But the Mainland – didn't they need them? Wouldn't it make life easier if they could make their roads something you'd want to walk on, as supposed to the sloppy messes they became with the slightest downpour?

Riki Poka had a real road. Lots of real roads, in fact. It meant they were serious about sticking around. It was solid footing in a chaotic world.

All this… and they weren't even over the first bridge into the city.

Astrid clung to his arm, her anticipation less contained than his, as the group moved over the bridge into the city proper. Qiao led the way, Nestor and Saga acting as escorts while Hiccup and Astrid brought up the rear.

While there weren't many fortifications to speak of, there were a fair number of chain-mail-wearing guards on the streets. A trio of said guards greeted visitors passing into the city, the middle guard clad in an ornate plate mail chest piece with sculpted images of a wolf and a bear locked in mortal combat. The blond-haired man inside the armor had a regal air to him, but no corresponding too-good-to-walk-the-streets-of-my-city attitude. A little on the young side as well, perhaps a year or two older than Nestor.

"Welcome, travelers," he expressed in understandable Norse as the group approached. "Forgive my assumption if you are not truly Norse, as your garb and ethnicity suggested as much. I see you elected to come over the hills instead of by ship or road. Not the easiest of hikes, I've been told."

"Right, not easy," said Qiao, the others nodding and going with the man's assumption. It had already been decided that Qiao should do the talking, as she knew the city and its culture. "Lord Dunkirk, correct?"

"Guilty as charged," said Lord Dunkirk. He scrutinized Qiao for a moment. "I don't believe we've met."

"I'm just good with faces," Qiao replied. "All the Lords of Rikki Poka have portraits in the Open Museum."

"This is true, though I contend the artist we employed botched the size of my ears," he quipped. "I will not keep you all long, as I do not wish to keep you out of our fair city. But I must remind you that while carrying weapons is legal, their use is highly restricted, and our guards are quick to action. Be kind to our city, and it will do likewise."

Dunkirk noticeably eyed Astrid and Saga's slung up and sheathed weapons, as well as Qiao's bow and quiver, this one containing a supply of normal arrows. Hiccup and Nestor were completely weaponless. Hiccup thought about it a sec – the women had weapons but not the men. Not your usual gender roles, which might raise suspicions. But while Dunkirk raised an eyebrow, he didn't appear to be bothered by it. Instead, acting more like a guide than a lord, Dunkirk rattled off a few popular locales and stores they might spend their coin at and then sent them on their way.

"Tell me you're not wanted in this city," Nestor asked Qiao after they got some distance from the guard post.

"Not by the city authorities," she replied. "Tempting as it might be, I never stole anything from the Lords. There are a few gang leaders and rich shopkeepers with underworld connections who won't be happy to see me though. Good thing we're not going anywhere near them."

"Where _are_ we going, exactly?" asked Saga, the suspicion thick in her voice.

"The Dancing Clam," Qiao declared. "A tavern by the docks. Fair warning, the name's the only funny thing about it."

"This place is huge," said Astrid, trying to maintain a balance between taking in the bustling atmosphere and focusing on their actual mission… and mostly losing to the atmosphere. "If someone magically transported Berk into the city, we'd never find it."

"I'm glad we left Toothless behind," said Hiccup. "He'd get too excited in this crowd." He didn't utter his other observation – not a single dragon to be found anywhere in the hustle and bustle, not even in the Livestock Pavilion, unless you counted the one stand he passed selling preserved animal parts like rabbit's feet and dragon's teeth.

There was lots of examples of cultural mingling – dark-skinned men in flowing outfits arguing with bald-headed monks in orange robes over a goat; a group of non-Berkian, non-Gunnarr Vikings haggling with a weaponsmith; a band of Asian musicians with weird lyre-like instruments playing out strident-yet-soothing tunes for a few tossed coins. It was impossible to pin down the city's culture – there were dozens of them on display, most centered on the pursuit of, or spending of, coin. But clearly dragons hadn't made the mix yet, and until they got a good read on the city, Hiccup wasn't about to introduce Toothless to the locals and hope for the best. The city had an army of guards and Hiccup didn't expect them to be as lax in their duties as the one they met in Weed.

They covered half-a-dozen streets, a dozen streets, two-dozen streets, yet the bustle never slowed for a moment. There was such unending enthusiasm to the city that Hiccup couldn't help but think that the Viking tribes had been making things harder for themselves for the last three hundred years. Here was proof that an open society could live in harmony with others, and that you could find everything you wanted without having to take it.

Astrid definitely shared his sentiments, happily pointing out stores or locations she wanted to visit when they weren't on official business. Nestor was too busy trying to avoiding collisions with the pedestrian traffic and Saga was too busy maintaining an evil eye on Qiao that neither of them looked like they were enjoying themselves.

Qiao eventually led them to a quieter part of the city; the traffic letting up about the time the buildings started looking less sparkling and more lived-in, even rundown. The vendors and stands grew fewer and the people on the street talked in softer voices. The number of guards had dropped off as well.

Beggars were popping up in places, some hiding in alleys between structures, others more brazenly panhandling on the street. One scraggly fellow came up to Hiccup babbling something in a language Hiccup couldn't follow, his hands out as if pleading for something, anything. Before Hiccup could react, the beggar noticed Hiccup's metal foot and suddenly acted apologetic, backing away from the group and moving on to the next group of passerbys.

"That was weird," said Hiccup. "Who did he think I was?"

"He thinks you're like him," said Qiao. "A lot of the homeless around here are missing limbs."

"Bit of an atmosphere change," said Nestor, eyeballing a group of teenage ruffians loitering nearby.

"This is what the rest of Riki Poka is like," said Qiao. "Most of the guards patrol the markets and the residences of the store owners. The rest of the city gets shafted as a result."

"That… doesn't sound good," said Astrid, her smile fading for the first time since entering the city.

"I guess every place has its warts," said Hiccup, disappointment creeping into his demeanor. Perhaps it was naïve to think that all of Riki Poka was shopping and merriment, but he did think it for a spell. There was no such thing as homeless folk in Berk. To begin with, you didn't survive long against the harsh winters if you didn't have a home. More to the point, no Berkian would ever let a neighbor sleep out in the cold.

"There's no law?" asked Saga, the distaste in her eyes unmistakable as she scanned the street for threats.

"It's not lawless," replied Qiao. "It's just… lenient. There are other forms of protection for the people, private guards and neighborhood militias and… you know, gangs."

"Criminals," said Saga, coating the word with spite.

"Details," said Qiao. "Sometimes they do a better job of protecting the people than the guards."

"Hardly surprising that you would defend them," scoffed Saga.

Qiao came to a halt and whirled on Saga, giving her an angry glare. "Excuse me? What does that mean?"

"Your ilk," clarified Saga, matching Qiao's glare. "Your brethren."

"Oh, because I'm a thief, right? That automatically enters me into the ranks of the thugs and killers. You know, like how all Norse are automatically bloodthirsty savages who live to burn, loot, and pillage."

"Cool it, you two," demanded Nestor, physically getting between the two of them. "Last thing we need is to draw attention with a pointless argument. Qiao, how much further do we have to go?"

Qiao frowned once at Saga, just to insinuate that this argument had a future resumption date, and then gestured at a dumpy inn down the road, squeezed between a pair of salt-scoured warehouses. "Right there. Charming location, huh? I'll just nip over there and check it…"

"Wait a tic," Nestor interrupted. "Just you? Don't think so."

"I know the clientele and the contacts, and they know me," said Qiao. "They don't know you guys, and they spook easily. And when they spook, they get out the knives."

"Can't let you out of my sight," insisted Nestor. Saga's ominous stare spoke for her.

"Mr. Uptight Dragon told you that, didn't he? Look, if I wanted to lose you guys, I had twenty-two different opportunities to do so just on the way here. But I want my stuff back and you want a boat ride. A little trust is in order."

"Said the professional thief," said Hiccup. "For all we know, you're going off to set a trap for us."

"Why would I do that?" replied Qiao.

"You know, take us hostage," elaborated Hiccup. "Trade us for your gear."

"And bring down the wrath of your dragons on me?" said Qiao. "Besides, I couldn't afford the goons I need to take you four on. C'mon, guys. You don't have to trust that I have your best interests at heart. Just trust that I have _my_ best interests at heart, and right now that means getting this over with ASAP."

Despite the half-decent argument, the skeptical looks continued, though they began to falter when Astrid chimed in. "I actually believe her. I think we should try it her way for now. It's not like we have any better ideas."

"Desperation is not a reason to trust the trustless," said Saga.

"Except that I'm with Astrid on this," said Hiccup. "And for the record, not because you're my girlfriend. Without Qiao, we'd be fumbling around the city."

Nestor groaned and then shrugged helplessly. "Okay, Qiao. Be back here in an hour, or we'll assume you're up to no good." Saga put her glare on Nestor and the others, but opted to stay mum.

Qiao laughed. "You should always assume _that_. Oh, and you guys might want to find something to do instead of standing in the street and looking like out-of-towners. The Open Museum is right down that block." She pointed in the direction of a large brick structure halfway down the street. "You might learn something."

As Qiao scampered off, Saga angrily shook her head and said, "Have you all been cursed with early senility? That will be the last we see of her."

"If so, then we have a few new trinkets to play with," said Astrid. "Saga, sometimes you have to take a chance on people."

"Even so, someone needs to stay here and watch for any shenanigans," said Nestor. "I might as well, otherwise Arc's going to yell at me, again, for being stupid."

"As will I," said Saga.

"Thanks for that," grumbled Nestor.

"I meant I will watch with you," clarified Saga, "though I reserve the yelling for later."

"Not trying to shirk the mission," said Hiccup, "but I'd like to get to know Riki Poka better. Maybe Astrid and I should check out the museum."

"Really, Hiccup?" replied Astrid unhappily. "Do we always have to visit the places where they keep all the dead people?

"That was one time and seven villages ago," defended Hiccup, "and I misread the Old Frank word for _mausoleum_. This is a museum, where they keep historical artifacts. It's like the Great Hall back home."

"Sounds a little boring," said Astrid, "but I'll live. We'll save the excitement for next time."

Hiccup smiled outwardly and cringed inwardly. Whenever anyone said that around him, it always got exciting. _Way_ too exciting.

* * *

The Dancing Clam's only real entrance decoration was the passed-out sailor sleeping between two rain barrels. There was almost always one present every time Qiao came to the place, which thankfully wasn't often.

She checked around for any potential muggers or gang gatherings and found none. They were the types dumb enough to attempt to accost her, the types that saw a woman first and neglected to see the bow strapped to her back.

But she did get accosted in the end, though not by any two-bit hoodlum. She was four steps to the pub's door when a deep voice came out of nowhere, sending a barrage of shivers through her bones.

"Didn't take you long to shake off my friends, I see."

Recognizing the voice, she quickly pinpointed the source as the fuzzy mirage-thing perched on the roof of the Dancing Clam. By the Stars, that dragon was sneaky. The distortion wasn't all that hard to spot, but you had to know what you were looking for… and you had to be looking up. And who did that?

"Rather brazen, aren't we?" she said, not happy at being out-sneaked twice in one day. "I doubt the guards will find your appearance here comforting. Maybe I should call them and find out."

"Yes, please try," mocked Arc. "Explain to them why you're talking to the very air itself. I'm sure the public homes for the insane are not yet full up."

Qiao grumbled a curse. The dragon had a point. The day being early, the customers for the Dancing Clam were few and all inside. The sleeping sailor mumbled something about quitting any time he wanted but then quieted once more. No other witnesses.

"Checking up on me?" she finally said. "As I told your pals, I need to go in alone. I'm going back to them once I meet with my contact."

"Who is?

"If I get a hold of him, I'll tell you. He wouldn't appreciate me spreading his name around otherwise."

The dragon remained silent and unreadable thanks to his little distortion trick, which Qiao didn't like at all. This guy had all the advantages in the conversation.

"Who are you, Qiao?" he asked. "Who are you really?'

"That's not part of our deal," she replied, "and once I get you a boat, our deal's done. So if you don't mind, I need to move on."

"You're not fazed by much, are you?" said Arc, as if she hadn't just spoken. "Most humans who encounter me have excitable reactions. You adapt very quickly. I sense you're used to thinking on the spot. A seasoned traveler, perhaps."

"You can keep throwing out your observations, Mr. Uptight, but no one's going to confirm or deny them."

"True, but then I'm not asking for you to do so. Secret-keepers can spot their own, Qiao. You can hide a lot of things, but you can't hide the isolation you feel by knowing what you know."

"We all keep secrets," she said quietly. "It's just a matter of what we keep."

The dragon shrugged or something – hard to tell with his distortion engaged. "This, then, is no secret – should you stab my friends in the back, I'll skin yours."

A second later, she was alone in front of the pub, the dragon-distortion having ascended into the sky with barely a whispering flap. She took a moment to steady her breathing and remind herself that getting angry wasn't going to accomplish anything. Honestly, between the dragon and that red-haired warrior-princess she was meeting her monthly quota of personal animosity well ahead of schedule. What'd she ever do to them?

Oh, right.

She then disappeared into the pub, hoping that the friendly face she knew there was still friendly. If not… well, it wouldn't be the first time she had to lie her way out of a situation.


	8. Getting Your Measure

**Author's Note:** I know this is never going to be the most-read thing on Fanfiction, and I'm okay with that. I don't begrudge people their interests or their desires, but I'm not going to give into them for the sake of greater readership, either. I'm into telling stories, not wish fulfillment, and I try to go different directions than what's considered safe territory (you should see my short stories). I could've stayed in Berk, could've added more familiar characters and kept the OCs few, but it would've made the story forced and stilted. My hope is that I show people a good story and that they trust that the journey, no matter where it goes or who's in it, will be worth it. I don't always succeed, but the nature of writing is learning to deal with rejection and failure as much as relishing your successes (few as they often are).

I believe that good stories don't depend on any one character, that substance should matter more than style, and that some of the best stuff out there is the stuff no one ever reads. And this isn't just a fanfiction thing - the "real" writing world has similar issues. The writer willing to get out there and promote his or her stuff, even if it's not all that good, is more likely to sell it than the best writers who think their work will do the job for them. You know why many writers and artists become famous _after _their deaths? It's because they just can't sell it... and someone else does it for them once they're gone.

My advice to readers: if you want the things you like in life to get more play, don't be silent. Drop hints to your friends on Facebook. Post stuff in forums. Discuss matters around the water cooler. Word of mouth is all you have sometimes, but it's more effective than you often realize. Just try not to be a jerk about it.

Onwards.

**Chapter Seven: Getting Your Measure**

The grass around Toothless was having a rather bad time coping with the dragon's restlessness, the definition of "bad time" meaning "a quick, blazing death." He just couldn't get settled, feeling the need to form a new nest every five minutes from scorched ground and blackened plant matter.

It wasn't fair, not at all. Hiccup and Astrid and the others got to go. Even that talking dragon got to go. What did he get? Another day of grounded boredom and staying out of sight of other wandering humans.

Why? Didn't he prove he could behave? The people in that smaller place treated him okay, except when he ate the fish that was out in the open. It confused him still, why that was wrong. In Berk, fish was always out in the open and it was always okay to eat them.

Hiccup had told him about safety and stuff like that, same old reasons from the past. But it didn't feel the same. He brooded and mauled the grass around him, little puffs of smoke fleeing to the sky from his aborted nests as he attempted to get comfortable.

In such a mental state, it was inevitable that something would come along to grab Toothless's attention. The Night Fury had his eyes to the clouded world above him, yearning for an excuse to defy his orders and travel the winds. His tail was set to self-control, so he could certainly do so. The dragon toyed with the idea of going up for a brief flight, up and down again before his companions returned. Only his wish to avoid angering Hiccup kept him on the unexciting soil.

Then something came along.

The eyes of the Night Fury work best at, what else, nighttime, but they did have an eagle-like way of zeroing in on distant points of interest. That's how Toothless's spotted something flying up in the low-hanging clouds. Motion that pressured a miniscule cloud into shifting its path, a dose of moisture that clung to the mystery flyer, outlining it briefly before slowly fading towards obscurity.

A bird in the middle of a hunt would be obvious. A dragon more so. Whatever this was, it was far from obvious. Recent events had made Toothless leery of enigmas, and he could no longer resist the need to fly, especially if a threat loomed above them.

He went airborne, charred bits of grass scattering from the force of his launch as he rocketed toward the sighting. He closed in rapidly, so focused on the odd anomaly ahead of him that he felt no pleasure in escaping the ground, nor any guild for defying Hiccup.

He was almost right on top of the anomaly when the fading image _reacted_ to him, speeding away, aiming to fly over the human city below the clouds, easily visible to skyward eyes.

Alarmed by the anomaly's reaction, fleeing as only a living thing might when the chase was on, Toothless had to fight the urge to pursue. He was right up to the edge of the outlying homes of the city before recognizing the folly of the chase. The unidentified object had become almost invisible again, with only a faint shimmer of moisture marking its presence. It had no problem not being seen. A Night Fury in broad daylight, however…

He knew better than to press his luck.

Growling out his frustration, Toothless veered off and flew back to his hiding spot… or rather, _over_ his hiding spot. The presence of an enigmatic, potentially dangerous anomaly flying over the city gave Toothless an excuse to stay aloft. Toothless chose to patrol the area from the safety of the concealing clouds, determined to surprise the unidentified object should it be brave enough to come near him again.

He got in a few more hours of flying time before he decided to stop being disobedient and land again. During that time, the anomaly never returned, or at least never exposed itself. Toothless took satisfaction from the fact that he had successfully scared it off, but the dragon felt more disappointed than relieved. His one real burst of excitement for the day already dead on arrival.

But even with his restlessness abated, he kept a vigil on the sky as he waited for Hiccup and the others. No matter how covertly they acted, invisible things were never harmless things. Arc had taught him that much.

* * *

Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

The same mistake from earlier in the day, and this time it really _had_ blown its cover. The Night Fury had caught sight of it, and while it felt somewhat thrilled by the development, excited by the notion of an aerial chase through the clouds, it had to follow orders and escape from sight once more.

The Night Fury hadn't followed it out over the city. Good. It meant the dragon wasn't dumb. There was still hope yet for the species.

Then it was back to its hidden surveillance, all the while hoping that its master wouldn't make a big deal of its blunder. It hated to upset her, as she could get very cross when she was upset.

* * *

"Ten minutes."

Saga's steadfast reciting of Qiao's remaining allotted time was mildly annoying, but Nestor wasn't about to tell her not to do it. The prickly thought that he had let Qiao run off alone, doing who knows what, sat on his mind like a sack of rocks. Arc hadn't given him a lecture on leadership just to have him screw up almost immediately.

The two of them had found a stone wall to lean against, allowing them an unrestricted view of the pub in the distance as well as the street and all its travelers. Most people barely gave them a first glance, much less a second. Saga's posture, her hands always on the hilts of her daggers, probably had a lot to do with it.

"She's not stupid, Saga," said Nestor, framing the statement as certainty despite the doubt plaguing his mind. "She'll be back."

"Nine minutes, forty-five seconds," was Saga's reply.

"What do you hate her so much?" he finally asked.

"She attacked us," she immediately replied.

"I'm aware. I have new holes in my shirt thanks to her, and I really like this shirt. But considering how you and I first met…"

"Thieves are the lowest kind of criminal among my people," she elaborated. "Stealing the livelihood from others threatens their survival. You earn the right to survive by facing life directly, not taking it off the hard work of others."

"This from a tribe renowned for its raids up and down the North Sea?"

"Not the same thing. We do not steal from each other."

"But outsiders are fair game? Outlanders?"

Saga narrowed her eyes, convincing Nestor that he might be wading into dangerous waters. But instead of handing him his kidney or some other vital organ, her eyes softened again and she looked back toward the pub.

"What we did was out of tradition and survival," she said. "We do not live in the places that grow life. Our survival required being ruthless… being warriors. From what tales I have heard, the nations and kingdoms that border us are in constant warfare with each other, or even themselves. The Gunnarr are simply better at it than they are."

"Ah, yeah, warfare is one of the few constants in the world," agreed Nestor. "But most people try to get along without it. Most people are happier when they don't have to worry about killing or being killed."

"I have seen the value of peace, Nestor. I need no lectures. But that does not change the fact that there are people who prey upon the peaceful. People like Qiao."

"I admit that she's a criminal, Saga. I just don't think that's enough of a reason to hate her."

"I do not hate her," she said. "I simply expect to hate her."

Nestor groaned and rubbed his eyes in resignation. "_Salo krebit_. Every time I think you're starting to get human…"

"Do not turn this into a judgment on me!" Saga had the angry eyes now. "I think I have done pretty well considering I travel with people my clan traditionally think of as enemies."

"Am I supposed to be thankful that you're not massacring me?" His dirty look was a match for Saga's expression.

"You are twisting my meaning!"

"I don't know what you mean! I never do!" His voice rose as the weak lock holding his temper corralled busted open, weeks of frustration making a jailbreak. "You told me once that you didn't want to be considered the Seer anymore, and we were all fine with that. But you still play your Seer games. You keep your cards close to your chest and you don't consult us before running off on your own and you question everything we do. I dance around you because I know what it's like to be in your boots, but I never know if you're about to widen my smile with your daggers or if you're sad or if you're just Saga being Saga and I'm _tired_ of it."

He expected no good reaction from his outburst, but the one he got from her was some peculiar mixture of anger, defiance… and hurt? Hard to tell for sure, as her face hardened up almost immediately.

"If I am such a hardship to be around," she growled, "why do you bother?"

"Good question," was his counter-growl.

Most days, he would have backed off, checked his words. Today, he just couldn't stop himself. He saw the look again in her eyes and it didn't go away so quickly this time.

"Uh, hi again," came the hesitant female voice from the side. "I obviously got here too early. I'll come back in a few minutes after one of you has killed the other."

"It's okay, Qiao," said Nestor, thankful to have Qiao as an excuse to look away from Saga. "About done with the conversation anyway."

"For certain," Saga quietly added. Nestor wisely decided not to comment on Qiao's punctuality in front of the simmering Seer.

"Ah," said Qiao, completely unconvinced. "I have good news. Linebreaker was available and decided to take your measure."

"None of that made sense just then," said Saga.

"Sorry, overuse of the lingo. Captain Linebreaker has the smuggling ship we want and taking your measure means he wants to get to know the four of you before he takes the job."

"He's interviewing _us_?" asked Nestor. "Doesn't it work the other way around?"

"I said he was a little different. I mentioned you four but not your dragon pals – figured it'd be better if you brought it up. Builds trust." Qiao noticed something and added, "Where did the other two go?"

"Open Museum," said Nestor. He glanced at Saga. "Perhaps we should delay this…"

"We will do it now and get it done," declared Saga, walking in the direction of the Dancing Clam without any further consultation.

"Anyone ever mention that you two fight like a married couple?" commented Qiao with a smile as she left for the Museum. Nestor quietly followed Saga, hoping, for a change, that there might be a few rowdy patrons in the pub who used trouble as entertainment. A random fight was a less anxious prospect than remaining in Saga's presence right now.

* * *

If there was a proper word that meant the opposite of grandeur, that word would describe the Open Museum. Plain? Perhaps. Quaint? Maybe.

Warm, inviting, and friendly? Not so much.

Much like the Great Hall, the Open Museum lived up to its name. It was very… open, with lots of unused space in-between wooden mockups of local buildings, names of famous figures that only a native Riki Pokan would care about, and portraits of dead and living Lords by an artist with a thing for creating large-headed people.

Hiccup still found it fascinating. While not a big establishment, it did have its exhibits and displays arranged by sections that, he assumed, dealt with various histories of the area. He assumed this because he couldn't read any of the signs – all Old Frank, most of which was over his head.

Adding insult to insult, the gray-haired curator didn't speak Norse and immediately dismissed him and Astrid once he realized they couldn't communicate verbally. With admission free of charge (the actual meaning of Open, apparently) they wandered in on their own recognizance and did their best to figure things out.

Displaying her desire to avoid things too blatantly "girly," Astrid led Hiccup past the fancy dress section and to the well-stocked section covering military gear. A small platoon of dummies stood in formation wearing various armors and holding weapons, some that Hiccup recognized easily and some that had a real exotic flavor. One fake soldier held two shafts of wood connected by a metal chain. The wooden shafts were supposed to be the deadly part of the weapon, which ran against Hiccup's smith-honed instincts.

Astrid looked over a badly-made horse dummy with a badly-made soldier dummy wearing a thick suit of rigid armor. "That's a lot of metal to wear into battle," she commented. "What happens if you fall off?"

"I guess you hope it doesn't happen," replied Hiccup.

He could understand her confusion. Berkian Vikings didn't wear armor into battle, at least not against dragons. Hiccup had once thought this silly – wouldn't you _want_ a lot of protection when dealing with all those claws and fangs? But it turned out not to be practical due to the fact that armor slowed you down, used up a lot of hard-to-find metal, and, most importantly, wasn't fireproof. Any tale involving an idealistic Viking that thought he could gird himself head-to-toe in slash-proof steel ended with said Viking covered in hideous burns when a dragon melted or superheated his armor with its fire breath.

Astrid lost interest in the armors and started moving towards the model siege-weapon section. Hiccup didn't follow, his attention on a particular set of armor with an imperial design, overlapping metal plates that allowed for limited mobility while protecting the torso and shoulders. Far more ornate than practical, it was more ceremonial or "official" than any Viking would bother with – you couldn't even lift your arms over your head while you wore it.

Yet… yet it gave him an idea. An idea that tightened its grip on his brain the more he studied the museum piece. He could do something like this. Not _exactly_ like this, but with some changes for added flexibility, he might be able to…

"Lorica segmentata."

In typical Hiccup-in-La-La-Land fashion, Hiccup jumped when the not-Astrid female voice chimed in to his left. He glanced that direction and found a brown-haired woman standing there, staring at the same piece of armor with casual interest. Considering the words she just spoke, in a language he didn't comprehend, he wasn't sure if she was talking to him or herself.

"An armor worn by the Roman Legionnaires," the woman said, "back when there was such a thing as a Roman Empire."

Okay, _that_ was clearly meant for him. Her darting eyes zeroed in on him for a moment before returning to the armor stand. Unlike most of the women he'd seen in the city, she wore heavily pocketed clothes, the pockets bulging with hidden goodies. Her attitude was more that of a scholar, a pure book learner.

"Uh… thanks," he said. "I can't read any of the signs here, so I'm kinda winging it."

"Oh, you won't find that information on a placard," the woman replied. "This museum is mostly for showing off trinkets and such. The Lords of Riki Poka thought it would be nice to display some of their wealth in a way that the everyman could view, but there's no real effort to teach history."

"Ah," said Hiccup. "Still, thanks for the…"

"The Roman Empire lasted around a thousand years," continued the woman. "That's what most people remember. That's the one achievement everyone likes to talk about, because the rest involves conquest, conscription, slavery, and gladiatorial games. The Romans may have brought civilization to most of Europe, but they sure weren't nice about it. But like every single empire and every tiny village throughout history, the result is the same. It just took longer for the Romans than most. That's the real lesson I take from history."

"Which is?" said Hiccup hesitantly. Something about the way she spoke put him on edge. Too knowledgeable to be a fellow tourist and too deliberate to be a passing historian.

"That nothing lasts forever. That no matter how hard you fight, how much you sacrifice, how noble or vicious you are… it all comes apart eventually." She stared at him directly this time, her eyes at odds with her slight smile, as if she thought she was doing him a favor by telling him this.

Hiccup didn't reply, wasn't sure what to say. _Gee, thanks for that depressing analysis_, he would probably have said. A real conversation killer. But in truth, it was the unsettled feeling in his gut that held his tongue more than anything else.

Hiccup knew how to feel unsettled. A dragon the size of volcano, a war machine the size of an island, an army of angry Vikings, or a powerful death-covered necromancer. All those things were blatantly and legitimately unsettling. But he was feeling the same way here, because this brown-haired woman spoke with such calm certainty, such confidence… and with so much hiding behind her words.

The call from Astrid that mercifully interrupted the moment made his swirl around and answer her too quickly to not look like nerves drove it. He didn't care. He was just happy to turn his back and get Astrid to his side.

"Qiao just showed up," said Astrid as she came into view from around the heavy cavalry exhibit. "She's waiting for us at the entrance. Nestor and Saga went ahead to…"

"Right, right, that," he interrupted hurriedly, gesturing with his head at the woman behind him, hoping Astrid would get the hint and not say too much.

"Why are you acting nervous?" she replied, looking confused. So much for taking the hint.

"We've got company," he muttered, now more irritated than unsettled.

"Where?"

Many call Hiccup a genius, but there were times he thought that title was undeserved. Like now, when he turned around again and saw that there was no brown-haired woman at his back. "And now she's gone and I look crazy," he remarked.

"You met someone else?" asked Astrid as Hiccup faced her again. "I haven't run into anyone in here besides Qiao and that cranky curator."

"There was a woman here, giving me a history lesson," he explained, unsettlement returning once again.

"Anything important?"

He could only shrug, and he tried to dismiss it as a chance encounter with some local scholar with too much time on her hands. Astrid took his arm and led him out of the Museum, and soon enough he had so many immediate things to deal with that his enigmatic meeting with the brown-haired woman became just another footnote in a day overflowing with unusual events.

It wasn't until much later on that he'd dearly wish he'd given it more attention.

* * *

The pub was at half-capacity when Hiccup, Astrid, and Qiao entered, but it was up to its ceiling in desperation and suspicion. Hiccup could smell it in the air… or maybe that was the local drink spoiling in its kegs. Either way, not appetizing.

Sullen reprobates in sailor garb, their conversations hushed and secretive, occupied the tables in the back. No boisterous crowds of revelry makers here. No, this was the place you went to drown your sorrows or where you made plans to create some sorrows for others.

And this was where they were getting their ship. Wonderful.

The tables close to the counter were deserted, allowing the patrons a great view of all newcomers, but their eyes didn't linger long before returning to their drinks and their comrades. They obviously didn't see a threat… or a victim worthy of their attention.

One table had a solitary occupant. Saga sat near the entrance to a side room door, brooding in a different manner than usual. Saga liked the stoic warrior approach to dwelling on weighty issues. This time, she just looked depressed, staring at the glass of water in front of her with her arms crossed on the table.

She looked up and nodded a greeting, then gestured to the side door with her head. "Nestor has gone in to meet with Linebreaker. Hiccup is to do the same."

"Just Nestor and Hiccup?" asked Astrid.

"First men, then women," Saga explained.

"Sounds a little sexist," said Hiccup.

"Trust me, it's not what you think," said Qiao. "But I should go in with you, help smooth out the wrinkles in this deal." She turned to Astrid and Saga as Astrid took a seat next to her sulking friend. "You two behave while we're gone?"

"Can we expect trouble?" asked Astrid, obviously referring to the other patrons behind her.

"Uh… not sure. This place has some colorful characters…"

"We will be fine," insisted Saga, not bothering to look up at Qiao.

Hiccup almost added that it wasn't Astrid and Saga that he was worried about, considering that they were the best warriors in their merry band and had their myssteel weapons in tow. He bit his tongue, deciding that the Gods were less likely to incite a riot if you didn't say things that tempted fate.

Through the door was a short hallway that led to the pub's candlelit backroom, which Hiccup thought would be all gloom and shadow and creepy. It would fit the pub's atmosphere very neatly. But while it might have once been a storeroom, what with the smell of musty kegs still lingering, the smell was the only off-putting part of the room. It had been converted into a study by the owner, who sat in the middle of the room opposite Nestor in a pair of fine leather chairs. The half-dozen lanterns in the room made it brighter than the pub proper, every shadow diffused or tucked away in their holes. The few paintings on the wall were all seascapes or ships braving storm surges and angry oceans.

The man assumed to be Captain Linebreaker stood up from his chair, a disarming smile greeting them. Dark-skinned and bald save for his meager eyebrows and thin beard, he wore a flowing shirt-and-trousers outfit that might have worked as an emergency set of sails in a pinch. For a supposed captain, he didn't seem that old, still in his mid-twenties with all his limbs intact.

"Greetings, my friends." His voice matched his smile, earnestly jovial. "I had hoped you would not tarry too long. Your friend here has told me much, enticing my curiosity." He shook Hiccup's hand happily.

Yay for good first impressions. After a polite introduction, Hiccup said, "So what exactly are you curious about?"

"I wish to know how many pounds of fish a Night Fury eats per day," explained Linebreaker. "Weight has to be factored into any voyage, after all."

Hiccup's face blanched slightly. "Ah… so I take it you know about our dragons."

'Indeed. Your friend was very forthcoming." He gestured over at Nestor.

"Didn't think it was smart to show up at the boat with too many surprises," Nestor explained as he got up from his chair and joined the others.

"So you're not bothered by having dragons on your ship?" asked Hiccup.

"It wouldn't be the strangest passengers or cargo I've smuggled," said Linebreaker. "I've been up and down the length of the Mediterranean, parted the waves along the coast of Africa, and even conducted a memorable trip to the Far East. They are housebroken, correct?"

Hiccup saw Nestor bite off a laugh and almost snickered as well. Arc would definitely not appreciate someone asking him _that._

"Apparently Nestor didn't tell you _everything_ about their dragons," remarked Qiao.

"There's no need to tell me everything," replied Linebreaker.

"Well, in this case…" started Qiao, but the captain raised a calloused hand, cutting her off.

"Qiao, you of all people understand the desire for secrecy in our line of work," he said. "Clients deserve the same courtesy. If it's vital to my ship's safety, I will learn of it in time. But now I must get your measure." He looked directly at Hiccup when he said that.

"Okay, what do you want me to do?"

"Stand still and avoid fidgeting." With that, the captain produced a line of rolled up leather, marked up like a measuring stick, and began to measure Hiccup's left arm.

Baffled at first, Hiccup let Linebreaker drape the roll across his body while giving Nestor a look that said _a little explanation, maybe?_ Nestor's response was to look really amused and say nothing. Hiccup did realize what the captain was doing right about the time Linebreaker wrapped the measuring leather around Hiccup's waist and made a comment about the stick-like qualities of his bones. The captain was a tailor, one who liked to talk constantly while he "got your measure."

"I typically take on few new clients these days. The Lords of Riki Poka are not fond of smugglers and sometimes try to expose us with double agents. But Qiao is a reliable friend and the story I've heard so far is fascinating. Carrying dragons out into the middle of nowhere? The bragging rights on transporting such an exotic cargo would be worth the risk alone. And clearly something is out there or it would be a pointless exercise. Normally I'd jump to take this job, but you catch me at a bad time."

"Wait, you're not taking us on?" asked Hiccup.

"I did not say that. I said this is a bad time. I have two issues to address. The first is the annual Harvest Festival four days from now. For several years I've had a running contest with Lord Benzyl, a great fashion connoisseur, on who is the better designer. He sends his well-dressed minions to the festival, and I send my properly adorned crewmembers. An impartial judge walks about the festival, feasts his eyes on our competing garbs, and decides who still has the best taste. For the last five years, that has been me, probably because I don't overuse tassels like Lord Benzyl. But this year there is a new wrinkle in the fabric – I have no crew."

"What?" Qiao was as surprised as Nestor and Hiccup. "You didn't mention this to me earlier."

"I didn't because I wished to meet your new acquaintances first, and telling you this information would've made you shy away." Linebreaker had reached Hiccup's metal leg and made careful measurements around each hinge and nut. "As you can guess, this second issue, the lack of crew, bleeds into the first. Smugglers aren't the most reliable of sailors and they heard of a new powerful pirate faction that was in need of deckhands. They abandoned me, every one of them, deciding to stay at Outcast Bay and wait for their chance to join 'the winning team.' Ingrates. Thankfully I only need a handful of sailors for my little cog." He stood up, went to his desk and started writing on a piece of paper a series of numbers, presumably measurements. "Being Vikings, I assume you all have some nautical knowledge."

"Not a Viking," said Nestor impatiently.

"We didn't sail here, if that's what you think," said Hiccup. "I've been on a few longboats, but they always had to tie a rope around my waist so I didn't get blown over the side by a strong gust of wind."

Linebreaker laughed, figuring it was a joke. Hiccup went with it. Yes, technically, he'd gotten big enough not to be tethered, but his record with boats was almost as bad as his record at killing dragons. The last longboat he'd crewed had sunk a scant few hours after launching.

"I am not concerned," he said merrily. "If you and your comrades are willing to be my crew for this journey, I will gladly lend you my boat, and my expertise, at no charge. But your cooperation extends to the festival and the contest."

"We don't have to dance around and look fabulous, do we?" asked Nestor.

"_You _don't have to do anything, for _you_ will not be wearing my fashion," stated Linebreaker. "No offense, but you have this way about you that says, "I do not want to be noticed.' You do not draw the eye, and that will not work."

"I see," said Nestor, unsure how to take that particular comment.

The captain turned to Hiccup, looking very pleased with what he was seeing. "But _you_, Hiccup, are perfect. Completely fashionable."

"Me?" If there was one word he'd never associate with himself, it was _fashionable_. "A skinny twig with a metal foot?"

"Precisely. Your very nature demands people to notice you, and thus they will notice my fashion. We'll just have to do something with all… this." Linebreaker reached out and grabbed Hiccup's sleeve, rubbing the material in his fingers and frowning. "Peasant wear will not win the day. Good thing I have four days to prepare."

"Just so we're clear," said Nestor, "if we do this, you promise to carry us to our undisclosed destination without asking too many questions, as well as the return trip?"

Linebreaker nodded. "That will be our deal. Now, will you go tell the two women of your group to come in? It's been some time since I've attempted dressmaking and I fear I'll need all the time I can be given."

"I… should be elsewhere," said Nestor. "It's not safe for me to be around Saga right now." The uneasy expression on his face confirmed Hiccup's suspicions about the source of Saga's bad mood. He agreed with Nestor's strategy – better to give women with mystical weapons a hefty cool down period.

Right about then, the noise level outside the door suddenly went from sedate to violently loud. Furniture cracking, men yelling and screaming, the ringing clang of metal on metal, and the frantic rapping on the door of the barkeep, begging for Linebreaker to come out and save the pub from utter ruin.

"That's probably them right now," Hiccup commented unhappily.

* * *

They had sat in the back without any fuss or fanfare, a trio of cloaked figures who might as well have written _we're up to no good_ on their bland cloaks for all the subtlety they exhibited. Thankfully the Dancing Clam was a place where that kind of meeting happened all the time, so they were ignored in exchange for ignoring all the other ruffian meetings going on at other tables.

They had entered the pub not long after Qiao had come in, had stayed after she'd left, and were still there when Qiao returned with two sets of companions. Two of the cloaked patrons kept their eyes on Qiao. The third had done the same for a time, but the object of his attention changed to Saga once she entered the pub.

He couldn't stop looking at her, and if Saga's mind had been more alert she might have picked up on his piercing stare. His cloak and the dim shadows of the pub's corner couldn't entirely hide his intentions. When she had sat down all alone and brooding. It was like dangling a sausage in front of a starving wolfhound.

He fiddled with his mug, as full as when it was first served. His hands kept touching the new claymore sword leaning against his seat, his desire to bring it out conflicting with his desire to not bite the hand that was feeding him.

She was _right there_. It could be over in one sword thrust. But his two companions had warned him, warned him very specifically. To defy them would be to defy the Alchemist, and that would be bad.

Then the other one sat down. Astrid, the one who had shamed him in ritual combat. Two of them, together. Two for the price of one.

It was too much. It was infuriating. He could get revenge right _now_. The Midgard Serpent could devour the world for all he cared of the Alchemist's plans…

Perhaps the Gods were listening for a change, for as he watched a stupid patron decided to talk to Saga, not realizing or not caring about the repercussions. He saw the attempt go as predicted, then escalate as the idiot's friends came to his rescue. In short order the pub had become an arena, and Cragfist saw opportunity amidst the bedlam. Distracted with other opponents, Saga would never see the killing blow coming from behind.

He was not the only one who say the opening, nor were his thoughts all that unreadable. He made one simple move toward his sword and received a blow to his skull that staggered him, his body slumping back into his seat.

He had just enough consciousness in him to notice one of his companions taking off from his chair and running toward the fracas while the other pinned him to his seat with her chain-wrapped arm. With his head fogged up he couldn't resist her, and the murderous light in her eyes suggested he would be foolish to try.

"You're lucky the Alchemist likes you," Sheen whispered, "or we would have let you screw up. Then you'd be dead, and I wouldn't have to baby-sit."

* * *

Saga did not sulk. Sulking was not Gunnarr behavior. She… considered things.

Astrid, being the true sister she was, did not ask why her mood was so dour. She acquired a mug of water and patiently sat with Saga, clearly wanting to know more but not applying pressure. Saga mentally thanked her for that.

She was trying. She really was. Too many life changes in too short a time span. Too much weight to carry. She still felt the enormity of her actions in her battle against Cervantes and the Monolith. The loss of her father, the disownment from her brother, the exile from her people – one right after the other. She didn't regret her actions, not since her actions saved her tribe from destruction, but a lack of regret wasn't the same as having pride or confidence in her course.

Flush with their victory and the warm camaraderie of her new friends, she had welcomed the chance to find a new course in her life. While her role as the Seer for the Gunnarr was done, she still remained a Seer, if but a wandering one… or so she thought.

They had followed her zigzagging visions and had not questioned their path until recently, when the visions ended. No new destination in mind. No new hints to their fate. To have her visions dry up so completely was like reading through a story only to find blank pages just as the plot grew thick.

This day. This misbegotten day. A petty thief assaults them, but instead of disciplining her they go and befriend her. Archibald brings them a dangerous, risky, ill-thought direction to travel. The group had stopped listening to her insights and was now making stupid choices.

And then Nestor says "good question."

Good question.

Why did he have to say that?

Half the time, she didn't know how to handle him. He was the opposite of everything Gunnarr – an unassuming, annoying "deviltry" wielder whom her people considered an enemy… in no small part due to her own words. Their first meeting was practically lethal, and the only reason he beat her was because he cheated, even if the cheat was allowed.

And then he had spared her. Big of him, considering she wouldn't have been as merciful had her visions not steered her otherwise. But something about that one moment, when he refused to kill her at great potential cost to himself, changed something in her. Astrid had already confounded her with different truths and perspectives, but this man… this Outlander… had shaken her far more deeply.

He was still trying to be her friend, had chased her down numerous times over the last several weeks. In truth, she enjoyed the chase. Whether it was an offer at a rematch (for the sake of her feelings, naturally) or an offer to scout out the local caves together or just a one-sided gripe about how Archibald had left him behind once more, she always liked Nestor's fumbling attempts to bond. She couldn't tell him that she wasn't ready for a friendship with him… because it wasn't just about friendship, was it?

Unassuming, annoying, "deviltry" wielding Nestor.

Brave, persistent, noble Nestor.

She needed her visions again, needed some idea of her role in this new life of hers that wasn't utterly foreign to her. She couldn't do that while worrying over Nestor's feelings. She was Gunnarr – feelings interfered.

Except now he was making surrender noises, giving up on her. Like she had pushed him away one time too many. And to her shock, the thought hurt more than she imagined it would.

"Well, hello there."

More often than not, showing the world you were not in the best of moods elicited two types of responses – someone trying to cheer you up, or someone trying to exploit your situation. As Astrid hadn't tried the former, the Gods were now attempting the latter with a bearded foul-smelling half-drunk sailor. He stood next to Saga with a weird grin on his face, as if he was trying to pass himself off as friendly.

"Lonely ladies," he continued in barely-passable Norse. "Surely you needin' more bodies at your table."

"We're good, thanks," Astrid politely replied, shifting her back so the stranger could get a good view of her axe. It had no effect.

"Ah, that I can see. But you'd be better with a companion to…"

"We have companions, and you are intruding," stated Saga. "Go back to your table and resume your plans."

The rejection was obvious and any sane man would have taken the hint and moved on. This one either couldn't recognize the daggers on Saga's belt or else had his diminutive ego wrapped up in this affair. He leaned down, put a hand on the table near Saga's drink, and got his face in way too close. "Girl, it seems to me that you need someone to cheer you up, and I isn't leaving 'til you happy again."

Saga thought she was demonstrating remarkable restraint, considering that any Gunnarr that had tried what this fool was doing would've been holding his freshly-parted head in his hands ten seconds ago. Part of the reason for her Seer cloak was to avoid these kinds of encounters, and she was sorely missing it right now.

But she'd had a long day, and restraint was a finite resource.

Astrid saw the look in her eyes a second too late to do more than say. "Saga, maybe we should…" before Saga's left fist cocked back, flew up and backhanded the lout in the nose. Force and surprise sent the man reeling away from the table and crashing into the bar counter, where he slid down to moan and hold his undoubtedly broken nose.

"Ironically, that did cheer me up," Saga commented to a wide-eyed Astrid.

"Then I hope you want more cheer," Astrid said, standing up as an entire table full of fellow louts stood up from their drinks and approached. Saga stood and faced them, keeping her daggers sheathed. She didn't want this to get deadly, and the half-dozen friends of the moaning sailor weren't carrying.

Astrid made to stand with her, but Saga shook a hand at her. "Do not, Sister. Stay clear of this."

"You're joking, right?"

"If this gets worse, only one of us should get into trouble," she reasoned. "Besides, this will not take too long." Astrid narrowed her eyes but didn't argue, moving to the bar counter, where the barkeep was jabbering on and on at the crowd in a vain effort to keep the peace.

"Woman or not, no one does that to Dirk except us," said the lead lout. "Apologize."

"Very well," said Saga. "I am sorry that I broke your friend's nose. I was aiming for his teeth."

As expected, the snide remark sent the first man right at Saga, flailing his fists in a mock gesture of toughness. Saga sidestepped his predictable punch and jabbed his ribs with her own fists twice, taking the wind out of him. The follow-up kick to his stomach sent him sprawling into a nearby chair, toppling it over with an echoing crack.

Undaunted, the others came on and they all did about as well. They were sailors, not warriors, and their approach to fighting was like watching elephant seals wrestle. No poise, no precision, just ego and overconfidence. The most creative thing they tried was two of them rushing her together, only for Saga to redirect one into the other and have their heads smash together. Saga went for the joints and the pain centers, not wanting to drag this out.

It didn't. At best, only fifteen seconds had passed before the sixth goon toppled onto his buddy, softly moaning with his fellow drinking pals on the hard floor. Astrid had done her part by staying out of it and convincing one would-be brawler to keep his dagger tucked away by showing him the quality of her axe.

Saga felt _much_ better now. Perhaps the Gods had been trying to cheer her up after all.

The smooth sound of metal sliding out of leather put her on guard again, instinct forcing her to draw her daggers as a cloaked figure jumped over the nearest table at her, a pair of skinny swords leading the way. Saga got her daggers in place and deflected their momentum, forcing the newest attacker to halt and pull back a step. He squared off with her as if they were now in a duel, the hood of his cloak falling away to show the Asian nature of the man, the tattoos on his bald scalp, and the neutral look on his face.

"Your skill with your weapons matches your skill with your fists," said the man coolly. "Most would not have survived my attack."

"I am the Seer, the heart of the Gunnarr," replied Saga, her daggers crossed before her. "No one catches me by surprise."

"I am Kong of the Alchemist." He bowed in respect. "I regret that we cannot talk further." He ended his sentence by thrusting one sword in Saga's direction, a hopelessly insufficient attack that Saga parried easily. It was meant as such, Kong's other sword hooking the handle of a nearby mug and deftly knocking it at Saga's face.

Saga batted the mug away, the liquid within splashing out, droplets of rank beer coating her and blinding her for a second. Shaking her head furiously, she just barely caught Kong's second attack before his sword tips penetrated her belly. She could now see the shine of the steel composing Kong's unusual swords, and her mind reeled upon recognition of the mighty metal.

Kong went on full attack - one swipe, two swipes, double thrust, low sweeps, overhead chop, backhand reversal. Intense, vicious, and well poised, Saga could keep up but not counter. Her daggers were too short and Kong had the range. A table caught one, two, three swipes of his swords, the blade moving through the wood as it moved through air, before the table slid apart into four irregular pieces. The floor acquired rent after rent as the attacks continued, Saga backing up to find room to maneuver.

What she found was the spilt mug, accidentally stepping on it and tripping. She caught herself on another table and avoided sprawling on the floor, but the damage was done. Still lacking any emotion in his cold eyes, Kong came at her with both swords in a dual overhand swipe.

A new flash of metal knocked his blades up, forcing Kong to vigorously retreat as Astrid walked in front of Saga, axe at the ready. Her appearance wasn't enough to make Kong look worried, but his stance suggested he hadn't expected this turn of events.

"Sister, this is not wise," said Saga as she got her feet under her once more.

"Sorry, but I draw a line at watching my friends get carved up like mutton," said Astrid. She gave Kong a very dirty stare. "I don't know why you're doing this, but you're done doing it."

Kong's response was to thrust out one sword out, a feint, and then slash out from the side with the other. Saga watched as Astrid whirled her axe in a circle, catching the first sword and then the other with the curve of her weapon in one amazing move and blasting them out of Kong's hands. They clattered to the ground well out of reach, and this time a look of concern finally made it onto Kong's face.

Saga smiled. Kong's move might have been fine against most warriors, but it was still simple and direct. He had thought Astrid simple and direct as well.

Hurried voices began to reverberate from the hallway in the back. Saga noticed the barkeep had fled, presumably that direction. Nestor and Hiccup would be here soon, along with an angry tavern owner. Sensing this, Kong straightened up and gave his two opponents another polite bow, simultaneously reaching under his cloak and pulling something out from under it. His balled-up fist opened and a spray of dust shot out at a nearby candle. The dust twinkled ever so briefly in the weak light before catching on fire, and then the sun literally came out of nowhere, blinding every occupant with flashing radiance that took several agonizing seconds to fade.

Saga recognized the powder, though the recognition didn't help her one jot. Expecting attack, Saga stepped in front of Astrid and kept her ears perked for signs of a new assault. But amidst the yelling and crashing and panicked steps, there was no indication of her new enemy's intention. Only when the glare fell away did she realize Kong's plan. Kong, his weapons, and the two other cloaked figures he'd been sitting with were gone, the front door wide open and swinging.

* * *

"Not happy, gentlemen," said Linebreaker, addressing the seven louts who had begun the altercation, all of them gathered next to the front door. To impress upon them how unhappy he was, he had taken his cutlass out of his scabbard and was brandishing it about like he was about to spank them with it.

"I expect a certain amount of shenanigans in my establishment," he continued, "and thus I grant a certain amount of leeway. But you nearly ruined my fashion plans, and _that_ I cannot abide. I do not want to see any of your faces in here again for a month, and I do not want to hear that either of these two ladies met with you again. If either one occurs, I will ensure that you can never taste your drink ever again, nor will you have hands to hold your mugs."

Linebreaker ushered the louts out the door and then went to the gathered group of would-be crewmembers waiting at the counter. They were now the only people left in the place, since bar brawls have a tendency to clear out the customers. While it was rare for the guard to come investigating, few of Linebreaker's clientele wanted to take that chance, not with their reputations.

Qiao didn't sit with the others, instead leaning against a nearby wall and frowning at nothing in particular. Linebreaker knew it wasn't due to the brawl – Qiao had been in her fair share of them, on occasion instigating one or two of them. Linebreaker had watched her face fall upon hearing the description of the mystery swordsman that had attacked Saga. She knew something for sure, but Linebreaker wasn't going to ask. They were friends for sure, but not in the sense that they knew each other's skeletons.

While the others sat on stools and waited, Nestor had his hand in his coin purse and looked ready to use it. "Sir, if it's settles things with you…"

Linebreaker laughed and told Nestor to take his hand out of his purse. "I will get my compensation in time from the guilty party. This was not your fault." With the help of one irate barkeep, Linebreaker had pieced together who was at fault for today's brawl. In truth, Linebreaker regretted not watching Saga rip the hubris out of those miscreants.

He turned to Saga and Astrid and said, "I hope this sordid affair has not ruined your opinion of me. I merely own the bar; I usually do not oversee the day-to-day affairs as I am off on other errands. Perhaps I should be taking a more direct hand from now on."

"Perhaps you should," said Saga. "I cannot say I care for the clientele."

"Doesn't sound like you had a problem handling them," said Nestor, trying to be jovial. Saga gave him a curt look that suggested that she wasn't past her cool down period. Nestor decided to avoid further commenting for now.

"Yes, _we_ handled them just fine," said Astrid, clearly happy with herself. "Seriously, Hiccup, you should have seen my move. The guy didn't even know his swords were missing until they were hitting the ground."

"Yeah, well, sorry I missed it," said Hiccup, not at all sorry. Watching the woman he loved in serious combat with someone who was a match for Saga? Way too nerve-racking. "But speaking of missing things, Toothless will have been missing us for hours and we should start heading back."

"Not just yet," said Linebreaker. "I still must get my measure of these two beautiful ladies."

Hiccup didn't exactly like the way he said that, but something about Linebreaker's earnest attitude mitigated his discomfort. Saga and Astrid weren't bothered either, and they followed him into the backroom without reservation. Astrid did turn to Hiccup before she disappeared through the door, silently asking for some clue as to what Linebreaker meant to do. Hiccup's response was to mouth _just go with it._

Half an hour of Linebreaker "getting the measure" of Saga and Astrid. Another couple of hours traversing Riki Poka, eating some of the local cuisine, and picking up a basket of semi-exotic fish. One tiring trek up the hill they had arrived on, one very enthusiastic greeting from a bored and eager Night Fury along with one polite greeting from a watchful and relieved Hyperion, a bit of conversation and questioning as Arc was made aware of the deal they'd made with Linebreaker (which, in his opinion, was adequate), and now everyone could get airborne again so they could put this long day behind them.

That's what they _should_ have been doing, at least according to Hiccup. But they had incurred one last snag.

"This is _unfair!"_ accused Qiao. "I have lived up to my deal. Now where's my stuff?"

"Back at the camp," said Arc. "You didn't think I'd bring it here so you could steal it out from under me, did you?"

Needless to say, Qiao wasn't happy. Everyone was gathered together at the forest hiding spot, waiting for the argument between Arc and Qiao to end. It was making the long day just that much longer.

"I thought you would honor our deal, dragon!" accused Qiao.

"The deal is for a boat, Young Qiao. Right now, we have a _promise_ of a boat from a smuggler and a waiting period of four more days, and I trust this Captain Linebreaker as much as I trust you."

"I don't have any power over Linebreaker. Whether you keep your deal intact or not is your problem, not mine."

"No, it continues to be _your_ problem. You know him better than us, so I expect you to help fulfill your end of the deal. When we physically have a boat under our feet, _then _your part will be done."

Qiao's stare was more piercing than her myssteel arrows. "So I'm stuck with you and the sourpuss for four more days?" The "sourpuss" in question chose not to say anything, much to Saga's credit.

"I doubt you had better plans," remarked Arc, completely unimpressed with Qiao's evil eye.

Qiao probably had a very ugly counter-remark planned, but she must have realized that saying it would not help her case at all. She stormed off into the brush, muttering something about how she needed a long bathroom break.

"We'll give her some time," said Arc. "I'd rather not have her ride on top of me in such a bad mood."

"Maybe we should just give her what she wants and let her go," said Nestor. "Not looking forward to four more days of this kind of friendly debate."

"What he said," said Hiccup. "Besides, Linebreaker needs me and Astrid for his contest, and he needs all of us for his crew. Why would he break our deal?"

Yes, Linebreaker had decided to go with the "couples" approach to the Harvest Festival informal fashion contest. That, and Saga had a mean look to her that Linebreaker didn't think would work out in public, despite her redheaded attractiveness.

"You assume too much from first impressions," said Arc.

"I think we need to keep an eye on her," said Astrid. "That powder Kong used was just like the stuff she used on us. That can't be a coincidence."

"Agreed," said Saga.

"You've been wanting to get rid of her all day," said Nestor, surprised. "Now you want her to stick around?"

"Only because I now trust her more within our company than away from it." Saga was still using that curt tone of voice with Nestor. He really had stepped in it, hadn't he?

With the group consensus heading toward keeping Qiao in their custody, Hiccup consented. Nestor didn't really have a problem with Qiao; he just hated the friction she generated in the group. If everyone was more or less okay with Qiao staying put for now, he was as well.

They only had to wait a few more minutes before Qiao returned and got on top of Arc, kicking him a couple of times "on accident." Then they were all flying amongst the clouds again, Toothless happily doing a few loopy loops and flip stunts to burn off his restlessness. Hiccup found it a nice distraction from the day's longboatload of events, a day full of amazement and revelation and plain old screwy Fate's Luck, as Nestor liked to call it.

In the process of absorbing and filtering the day's proceedings, he would occasionally feel like something was amiss. Yeah, Qiao was enough of an "amiss" that he might just be feeling insecure over their resident thief. They all were, to some degree. But the other things – the weird historian in the Open Museum, the mystery swordsman in the Dancing Clam, the gut feeling he had that something had happened to Toothless while they were gone, the way the dragon kept watching the skies as if something was about to come at them.

Then again, it was Riki Poka. It was a place where everything happened at once, all the time. It was a new world for him, and it would take some getting used to. But if Berk could get over its disdain of dragons, he could learn to adapt to Riki Poka.

Now he just had to figure out how to kill four days.

* * *

Coven Cove had little more than onomatopoeia going for it. A beach composed of rocky shoals and intimidating stone outcroppings, it was two hours away from Riki Poka by boat and a day's hike by foot. A lot of effort for a worthless piece of coastline that wrecked any boat that landed on it. The supposed coven that was rumored to live there was a mere superstition with a silly origin story that didn't bear repeating. However, it did have a surreal quality to its landscape at nighttime, almost as if the rocks absorbed the ambient starlight and made the dark just that much darker.

Even smugglers and pirates rarely used the cove. The damage to their ships outweighed its seclusion. Most of those types went to Outcast Bay, another hour by boat along the coast from Riki Poka.

The stone landing boat moored in the cove had a lot in common with the traditional Viking longboat, thin and curvy and maneuverable through narrow channels and rivers. But its mineral composition made it far heavier and thus not as portable. Unlike its longboat cousin, it didn't fear the shoals of Coven Cove. It was made of sturdier stuff.

The Alchemist watched her soldiers make their way across the treacherous beach to the boat, using torches and lanterns and even that glow option of their belts, the one stone that gives off a greenish nightlight. Not many of them use it – tends to disturb the superstitious.

Kong, Sheen, and Norom stood nearby, having just debriefed her on their respective missions. Cragfist was also present, not in the same league as her lieutenants but valuable in this instance. Like the rest of her soldiers, they had hiked all the way from Riki Poka not long before sundown, using the night to mask their movements.

They all awaited her order to depart, but more than that, they wanted her assessment on their performance. They had learned a lot today, but the big picture was one that only the Alchemist perceived. It was her word that put them into motion. Most of her soldiers got that, even thrived on it, but any leader needed a sounding board that didn't just parrot what she wanted to hear.

"Interesting bunch, this Dragon Rider and his allies," she said.

"They don't seem like much," said Norom. "Hard to believe this is the same group that destroyed the Monolith."

"They did more than that," insisted Cragfist. "They defeated my tribe and a powerful necromancer. And that was after the Dragon Rider himself took on a mountain-sized dragon and won."

"The Seer is formidable," said Kong. "I suspect she is teaching the one called Astrid all her skills."

"They wouldn't have been a problem if I had gotten involved," bragged Sheen.

"Don't let pride blind you, my lady," cautioned Kong. "I made the same mistake today, and you saw the results."

"True, but now we know what to expect," said Sheen. "Next time, we'll have them."

"Let's hope there won't need to be a next time," remarked the Alchemist. She hadn't been happy to hear that Kong had provoked a fight when he was supposed to be observing, but after he explained his reasoning she had decided to forgive his impulsiveness. How else could they understand their foes if they didn't test them? Thanks to Kong, they now knew the skill of the two female warriors… and they knew that their enemy knew nothing about them.

It hadn't been an accident that Kong had dropped The Alchemist's title during the duel. If the Seer had recognized it, her reaction would have been apparent. She hadn't reacted – the name meant nothing to her. The Alchemist's personal meeting with the Dragon Rider had confirmed this. Right now, they had the informational advantage.

"You shouldn't underestimate any of them," warned Cragfist. "The Outlander beat my sister in a Trial of Tyr, and you have yet to face their dragons."

"I am not worried about their dragons." Her eyes went to the sky, where she knew her truest friend remained, circling overhead on guard duty. No, she had nothing to worry about from that front. "Norom, do you fear this Outlander?"

Norom's toothy grin accompanied his answer. "Sounds like a challenge. I haven't had one of those in a long time."

The Alchemist chuckled at his bragging, then stepped in front of Cragfist so that there was no mistaking the target of her words. "You see, Cragfist, the only thing I truly fear is disloyalty. It's a pet peeve of mine, and I tend to stomp on it very hard. Today you were given a chance to prove your worth to me, and you nearly blew it on a whim. You're lucky that Kong and Sheen are loyal to me, and that they kept you from making a fatal mistake. Learn from their example, and learn quickly. Next time, they will not stand in your way while you destroy yourself."

She could see the anger welling up in his eyes. Poor guy really wanted his revenge. She had no pity for him. He needed to understand his place first before she granted his wish, and he wasn't there yet. Not by a long shot.

"Lieutenants, let us remember that the best way to win a battle is to avoid one," she said, addressing the group. "The Dragon Rider doesn't know of us or our intentions. We could sail out of here, go back to the _Zenith_, pull anchor, and leave without any trouble. Problem is, we have a demonstration to undertake the day after Harvest Festival. Plus I cannot leave these shores empty-handed. The artifact I retrieved from the North Sea is refusing to cooperate and the only other way around my current dilemma is through Qiao. I… regret that we may have to do so, but I may have no choice.

"I desire to leave sleeping giants in their beds, but Qiao has thrown her lot in with the Dragon Rider. I still have four days to get what I need the preferred way, but should that not pan out, then we will need to come up with an alternative plan of action."

"We could use the demonstration as cover," suggested Norom. "After we're done there, all eyes will be watching Outcast Bay."

"Not a bad idea," said the Alchemist. "But let's iron out the details later. The night is old and my bed is calling."

Before she began to walk down to the landing boat, she noticed the knapsack tucked under Norom's arm. The bunchy, tumorous quality of the contents was the only clue she needed. Pointing at the sack, she tsk-tsked and said, "Norom, that better not be what I think it is."

Norom bowed his head sheepishly. "They were on sale."

"My friend, how can you expect discipline from others if you don't discipline yourself?"

"They're matching sets this time, not just the left ones." The comment provoked snickers and polite laughter in the others, all except for Cragfist who looked confused. Inside jokes had a way of doing that.

The others filed after her as she carefully made her way to the water. Despite the aura of wisdom and confidence she projected, she didn't feel all that confident tonight. Her feelings were always conflicted when it came to Qiao. It wouldn't stop her from doing what she had to, but it made sleep more difficult to achieve.

One thing was for certain. The day after Harvest Festival, the day after all that cheer and song and dancing… that was _her_ day. And no one, not the citizens of Riki Poka or the Dragon Rider or dear Qiao, had any idea what was about to hit them.


	9. Four Days

**Author's Note:** I swear I'm done with the complaining.

Next week I will be on vacation. It shouldn't affect the release of the next chapter, thanks to the miracle of Wi-Fi and proper planning, but the possibility always exist that it could get delayed.

Also, the rest of the story is going through editing as we speak, so there won't be any writing-based delays. The totality of the book is one prologue, 19 chapters, and an epilogue. I plan on releasing the final chapter and epilogue together, though that's only a general plan and is subject to change.

Onwards.

**Chapter Eight: Four Days**

The morning might have been considered slightly brisk to most Mainlanders, but your average Berkian could brush it off and claim it was a good morning for a swim in the ocean… not that swimming was a popular pastime in Berk.

While Hiccup did find the morning air a little nippy today, he compensated by lying on a patch of soft grass with the sunrise at his back, lounging on his stomach with his sketchbook and pencil in hand, ruminating on Possibly Brilliant Idea #142. The idea had infected his thoughts during the night, and had candles been more available out in the sticks he would have gotten out of bed, gone to his desk, and put the Brilliant Idea to paper. Yet another reason why camping all the time bit the icicle. So he had forced himself to wait until daylight. Not much sleep was had, but the idea had gelled more solidly during the night, helping to make his sketches that much more succinct.

He hadn't bothered to don his boot, allowing his right foot the rare enjoyment of going bare. In Berk, where frostbite was a constant threat to the human body all through the winter, it was rare to go light on the clothing. Even in the summertime you'd find yourself with a chronic case of goose bumps. People did it – they're Vikings, it's manly to suffer – but those same people had enough body fat on them to hibernate five years straight.

Toothless had been lying next to him when Nestor nabbed him for a special job somewhere down the hill. A job where Toothless points out his… droppings, and Nestor gets to… examine them. Hiccup grimaced as he thought about it, thankful that Nestor had turned down Hiccup's polite-but-not-eager offer of assistance. Nestor said it was better that he did it alone to keep the number of people who knew what he was doing to a minimum, particularly Qiao. Arc didn't want her getting her hands on the Trail Stone again and causing more mischief down the road.

The sketch wasn't coming along as well as he hoped, smearing more and more as his eraser went to work. He was good at copying things that he could see right in front of him and pretty decent at mechanical schematics. He even had the curve and form of most dragons down pat. But this idea was a departure from all that, and he kept making…

OOF!

Astrid's greeting was more of a running tackle from directly behind him. With a giggle, she landed on his back and already had him in a hug, her arms encircling him and her chin on his right shoulder.

"Morning," she said in his ear, giving him a little kiss on the cheek, warming him right up and making him forget the full-body pounding he'd just received.

"Somebody's in a happy mood," he replied, unable to do much more than talk with Astrid lying on top of him.

"Two days of civilization in a row does wonders for a girl's disposition," she replied.

"Bar fights apparently agree with you, too," he quipped.

"Hey, we finally got some excitement. What's not to like?" She shifted her head slightly so she could see over his shoulder and examine Hiccup's sketchbook. "I thought I saw smoke coming from your ears. Hmm…"

She perused his drawing without bothering to ask for details, Hiccup patiently waiting for the inevitable "Hiccup, what's this?" It was hard to not be distracted with Astrid literally breathing down his neck and her own bare feet absently trapping his foot and playing with his toes. Then again, he didn't mind this kind of distraction at all.

"Hiccup, what's this?"

Here we go. Hiccup made a noncommittal sound and said, "It's me. I'm just not good at self portraits."

"No kidding. Your arms are too long and your legs are too short." She put a finger to the picture. "Is that armor plating?"

"Armor plating," he echoed. "You wanted me safe and sound, so I present to you the myssteel suit of armor." The picture, or more accurately the self-portrait parody, had Hiccup with several lengths of metal strapped onto his torso and limbs. Overlapping bands attached by leather and sealant wax, or so went the design. It wasn't as protective or all encompassing as the suits of armor he'd seen in the Open Museum, but it would protect his important parts. With myssteel, it would be light as his clothes and as impenetrable as a castle… provided he didn't get attacked by myssteel weapons, magic, or dragon fire. Good thing those weren't common battlefield elements.

"So your plan is to turn yourself into a turtle?" said Astrid.

"The plan is to have protection while still being able to move. A while back, I thought about making a suit of plating for Toothless out of the myssteel I brought, but it didn't seem practical. Toothless's strength is in his maneuverability and any armor I add would interfere with that. But there's no reason _I_ can't wear some."

He was hoping for "Cool idea, Hiccup," but he was getting silent skepticism instead. "Astrid, I'm not sensing any _wow_ from you."

"Don't get me wrong, it's not a bad idea at all. It's great for Hiccup the Dragon Rider. But if you're wearing this thing on the ground, it sounds like all it's going to do is allow a bad guy to smack you around forever until he gets in a lucky shot."

"I'm still getting Nestor to train me on his style of fighting, not to worry. But this way, I can actually _fight _like him."

"I suppose." She still didn't sound convinced, but then most of his ideas weren't all that confidence-building until he showed them in action.

"I am glad you're taking me seriously, though," she added, hugging him a little tighter. "That should keep you and Nestor busy until the Harvest Festival."

"You can help, if you want."

"No, I have to guard Saga."

"You mean Qiao."

"I mean _Saga_," she insisted. "I'm not worried about Qiao accidentally lopping off Saga's head."

"You're not worried about Qiao at all?"

Hiccup felt her shrug. "Qiao as a person is okay. She obviously has a past to hide, but so did Nestor for a time."

"Kinda my point. We know next to nothing about her."

"True, but I've learned not to expect the worst out of people. Guess whom I learned that from?"

"I'm not sure the lesson applies to career criminals." Hiccup thought about it and added, "But I confess that even criminals have their bright spots. Take that Linebreaker fellow."

"Don't know about Linebreaker. Odd guy, but not a bad kind of odd."

"You still okay with being a fashion contestant?"

Astrid laughed. "It's been a while since I've played dress-up. Might be fun."

One more good squeeze and a long kiss and then Astrid was off to get her boots and find Saga and Qiao, leaving Hiccup with his drawings and a general sense of warmth that goes with the whole being-in-love business.

He barely had time to start back on his sketch when Toothless bounded back over the crest of the hill and greeted him with a tongue to the face. Nestor trailed him, looking like a man who'd just spent a few hours shoveling out the dragon stables.

"The less glamorous parts of our profession," he commented, plopping down next to Hiccup. He held out a little stone that couldn't possibly have been formed by nature, as clear and smooth as ice but without the freezing side effects. He held it out to Hiccup for examination. Hiccup couldn't deduce much about it from a cursory inspection. No inner light or weird vibe suggesting it was anything special, but Hiccup didn't put much stock in benign appearances or positive first impressions these days.

"You washed it, right?" said Hiccup.

"Yes, I washed it! Spent ten minutes washing it." Nestor pocketed the rock and then noticed the open sketchbook. "Ah, yeah, new project. Can I help?"

"It involves a lot of myssteel. Last I checked, your barrier field and myssteel don't get along."

"I can be careful. Besides, what else am I going to do? Arc's on morning patrol and I'm all out of wolves to intimidate. You can consider it recompense for me training you in the art of unarmed combat."

Hiccup agreed. He then asked Toothless if he wanted to help, an important detail since he absolutely needed Toothless's fire breath to make this work. Naturally, Toothless waggled his head. All good.

He had a project and he had a team. Now he had to make sure nothing burnt down in the process.

* * *

All jokes aside, when Astrid got close to the training clearing and heard a mixture of triumphant whoops and dull thuds, her first thoughts did revolve around Saga performing her version of wish fulfillment, and it made her sprint the rest of the way to the clearing.

Mock battle, or maybe a drill? Not likely. Not between Qiao and Saga.

Saga had declared that she'd be watching Qiao when Arc wasn't, and she was making good on her declaration. Arc was the best at patrolling due to his Shrouding, so he was keeping to his aerial patrol routes in the morning. That left Saga with Qiao. Astrid hadn't seriously considered the idea that Saga would hurt Qiao unless Qiao deserved it, but with the noises ringing out from the clearing, her certainty all but vanished.

Much to her relief, blood was not adorning the trees when she got there. Much to her surprise, it _was_ a mock battle. No, check that, it was target practice. The solitary wooden bull's eye that Hiccup had put together for their training usage hung on a rotting stump, the red center covered in arrow shafts and dagger hilts.

Qiao and Saga stood at two different points in the clearing, Qiao behind a tree root on the far side of the clearing, making the distance close to seventy-five feet, and Saga next to her mediation boulder, about forty feet. As Astrid watched, Qiao lined up her bow, took a breath, released the string with a snappy thwack, and planted another arrow dead center one eye-blink later. Looked like she had done this five times previously.

Saga then calmly cocked back her right arm and tossed a practice dagger without even looking. It sailed through the air like a butterfly in a whirlwind and stuck into the bull's eye right next to Qiao's newest arrow. It was getting crowded in that spot.

"Six for six," Qiao called out. "One more step back?"

"You go any further out and the trees will obstruct you," countered Saga.

"So we'll just stay where we are and see who misses first?"

"Works for me. We have hours available to us."

Qiao groaned. "Joy." She then noticed Astrid, giving her a perky wave. "Hey, hey. We've found a way to work out our differences. Whoever wins this contest is right about everything forevermore."

"She was bored and desired practice," explained Saga. "She insisted that having competition improves her aim."

"Nothing makes the time fly by better than friendly competition." Qiao plunked another arrow into the target as she talked, immediately grabbing another arrow from her quiver and readying it. "Not sure I can call this competition _friendly_, though."

"If this was not friendly, the target would not be made of wood." A seventh dagger found the center almost immediately.

"You should get your axes and join us," said Qiao. "Axe versus dagger versus arrow. Pure skill. None of that mystical weapon mumble-jumble."

Relived as she was that there was no killing going on, Astrid wasn't sure getting in the middle of the competition was a good idea. Saga and Qiao finally had an outlet where their mutual dislike for each other actually worked in their favor and she didn't want to mess it up. "I only have two throwing axes. I'd have to pull them out all the time."

"We'll work out a system," said Qiao. "C'mon, you know you want some of this."

Yeah, she did.

An hour later, they had to stop to fashion another target out of bramble and twigs, as they had chewed up the bull's eye something fierce. The three-way contest was just heating up.

* * *

Four days can fly by as fast as a Night Fury conducting a speed trial, and so it was for the group most of the time. The daylight had everyone busy with their respective chores or hobbies, the nighttime had them exchanging stories over open campfires and cooked fish. Anticipation hugged the group in its embrace, the notion of a city-wide festival and the impending sea voyage the day after lifting away the growing malaise that had fallen on them not so long ago.

Riki Poka was off-limits for now. They were going to see plenty of it very shortly, and there was no sense in pushing their luck. No one complained.

Hiccup, Nestor, and Toothless worked on Hiccup's suit of armor, which proved more troublesome than expected. Hiccup didn't have any preset molds for this project and much of it he was winging, so half the time Nestor and Toothless were sitting around while he worked out the bugs or came up with a new technique for keeping the myssteel hot for longer periods. The stuff really did cool too quickly for conventional blacksmithing and since his source of heat only had so much gas in him, Hiccup had to be smart about his approach.

He expected to have the arm guards and most of his torso plating done by the time the festival rolled around. The rest of it would have to wait until after the voyage to the Repository, assuming they found the place.

Hiccup also gave Nestor an hour a day for that all-important combat training. Not very exciting. It entailed practicing defensive moves over and over, specializing on using Hiccup's forearms as shields. Obviously, that would only work if Hiccup had his myssteel arm guards in place, but that had always been Hiccup's plan.

On the fourth day of practice, Hiccup donned his newly minted myssteel arm guards and had Nestor wail away on them with a big stick (not his barrier field, as that would probably destroy all his hard work). Covering the outer half of his forearm, cushioned with softened leather and strapped on by hardened leather, Hiccup barely felt the stick's impact as it broke apart on his arms.

Success – he was no longer utterly defenseless in battle. Now he needed some gauntlets so that he might punch someone without breaking his hand.

Meanwhile, the women folk were busy inventing new ways to enjoy themselves under the guise of training. The long running contest of axe versus dagger versus arrow was on its fourth day with no winner in sight. They'd give the contest two hours a day, which was about as much abuse as their makeshift targets could take before falling apart. Astrid and Saga would then have their daily sparring while Qiao watched or caught a nap.

Three days in, Astrid suddenly expressed an interest in archery and Qiao offered to be a teacher. The lesson ended after Astrid's first shot flew far past the newest jury-rigged target and found a new one.

"One of yours, I assume," said Arc, walking up to Qiao and Astrid and presenting his perforated tail. The dragon had been coming in for a landing after his morning patrol and now had an arrow sticking out of his tail. Thankfully the arrow had found only scales and no flesh, but the dirty look on his face killed Astrid's urge for further lessons.

Saga proved the most resistant to the change in atmosphere. She had essentially taking over guard duty of Qiao, practically insisting that it was her sworn duty and arguing with Arc over it when he came time to relieve her. Arc's intentions weren't just about guard duty, and he had a devil of a time convincing Saga otherwise. She eventually relented and gave him early morning and nighttime duty, which usually consisted of Arc standing vigil while Qiao slept.

The few times Qiao and Arc did interact, Qiao said next to nothing to Arc. She said lots to Saga but no one dared to call it friendship. It was more like two competitors who just couldn't stop competing with each other, Astrid acting as a buffer between them when the insults got too unfriendly. But Qiao clearly thought Arc had overstepped some moral or etiquette-based line concerning "the deal" and was giving him the silent treatment. For a dragon looking for answers, this was not a good development.

The silent treatment was also going on between Nestor and Saga. Even during the campfires, the two of them spoke little. Neither of them wanted to talk about it, so no one did.

The fourth day might have gone the same as the last three, but the thing about "the day before" is that everything is always a little different. Anticipation ramps up, expectations increase, and anxiety manages to make its way into even the calmest of hearts. The side effect of this is that, for better or worse, tongues are often looser than normal.

* * *

"Okay, bud, one five-second burst on my mark… go!"

Under the feeble protection of the workshop's roof, Hiccup and Toothless prepared the next batch of myssteel for melting. Toothless had this down pat, letting forth a short controlled jet of blue flame on the hanging net of twine holding up the newest batch of myssteel. By the time the net fell apart into ashes, the metal fragments would be molten and dropping onto the plate mold underneath. Hiccup went through a lot of twine and rope as result of the process, and he breathed in a lot of ash that wasn't good for him, but it was the only way to melt myssteel in a way that didn't melt anything else. That was the trouble with working a metal that had a higher melting point than any other metal available.

"Any more sealing wax hiding around here?" asked Nestor, over at the second workbench and working on the next set of leather straps for the torso plating. Having watched Hiccup in action, Nestor had picked up a few crafting lessons and was handling the non-melting duties. "Seem to recall having one more box somewhere."

"Try under the tool table," Hiccup said, absently waving in the tool table's direction. His focus had to be on the melting so that nothing but the myssteel got melted, especially the workshop or his face. Hiccup liked his face and blacksmiths had a bad habit of getting them burnt at some point in their careers.

Hiccup heard Nestor rummaging about under the tool table for a good minute, about the time Toothless finished his burn and the myssteel had leaked down to the mold. He gave it twenty seconds, then took up his hammer and began to pound on the metal for another minute until it curled in the right places.

"Where?" cried out Nestor. "I'm not seeing it."

"It's there," answered Hiccup, looking over the piece and then pounding it some more. "Might have been shoved into that little nook."

"The nook with all the six-legged abominations?"

"Yeah, watch out for the ants."

Wiping his forehead, he then used a pair of tongs to move the new piece to a bucket of water for a quick cooling. After a rush of sizzle and steam, he moved it to another table, inspecting it for flaws. Toothless sniffed it and did his customary head waggle, approving of the job. He always approved of the job, even if it had to be done over. Hiccup figured Toothless was just happy to be part of the team, even if the part was that of a living smelter.

As Hiccup looked over the plate, once again marveling how myssteel could shine even after all that abuse, he realized that Nestor wasn't banging about under the tool table, but standing next to him with a mysterious smile on his face. Then Hiccup recognized the handkerchief in Nestor's hand, the black one with a round piece of jewelry in the middle.

The myssteel ring that Hiccup had hidden in his workshop two weeks ago.

"Didn't find the sealant wax," remarked Nestor.

"Oh, uh… yeah…" stammered Hiccup. "Must have been the nook under the drafting table. Why don't I take that off your hands?" He reached for it, but the ring moved backward as Nestor's smile widened.

"You're a sly one, Hiccup," said Nestor. "When did you do this? Middle of the night some time?"

Toothless extended his neck and looked the ring over, probably wondering what the big deal was. The mating habits of dragons didn't involve weddings and adornments. Come to think of it, he knew nothing at all about a Night Fury's mating habits. They didn't even have the same mating habits as other dragons, or at least Toothless didn't.

Realizing that he wasn't getting the ring back until Nestor had had his fun, Hiccup sighed and leaned on a nearby table. "Pretty much. A ring's not hard to do, and myssteel's easier to come by than silver or gold."

"More durable, too." Nestor then abruptly gave the ring to Hiccup, looking around as if worried that his taunting might spoil the surprise for the ring's intended bearer. "I'm surprised you haven't asked her already."

Hiccup took the ring, wrapped it carefully back in the handkerchief, and placed it in a vest pocket. A better place was in order, away from the ants and wandering hands. "How is it surprising that a quest to save the world from terrible death doesn't sound like the best time to ask?"

"You obviously thought otherwise at some point or you wouldn't have made it."

"Well, there'll be a better time and I'll know it when it comes." Hiccup felt more relaxed now that the ring was out of sight again. "Just like I know she's the one I want to be with. Just like I know that I don't care if marriages are arranged back home and that I'm not supposed to make decisions like this. If it meant that we had to live in some shack in the woods, maybe this one, because we broke Viking custom… I'd do it. That's how certain I am."

Nestor's smile went from playful to earnest. "Hard not to see that, my friend. A guy can envy that kind of certainty."

"Well, who says it won't happen with you? The Gods know we'll need someone as a neighbor when we're forced to live in a shack in the woods."

Nestor groaned and took a leaning spot next to Hiccup. "My life is better than it has been for a long time, Hiccup… but I'm not sure the Fates mean for me to have anything like that in my life."

"Is this about you and Saga?" Hiccup's curiosity had always been piqued, but Nestor was never in a mood to talk. Now seemed like the time to ask. "What happened there?"

"I said something stupid back in Riki Poka. I got tired of her cold attitude toward everything… or maybe just her attitude toward me. Now she'd rather hang with Qiao, someone she dislikes, than hang with me."

"Try apologizing. Maybe that's what she's waiting for."

"I don't think it'd matter. I think I'm looking for something that's not there."

"Want my two coins worth of experience?" Hiccup asked. Nestor shrugged unenthusiastically, not quite a yes but certainly not a no. "Astrid and I have known each other for years… in the sense that I knew she existed and she knew I was a total failure as a Viking."

"That's a bit harsh."

"You've heard my stories, and those were the less-spectacular incidents."

"Ah…" Nestor didn't have a comeback. "Right, continue."

"As I said, Astrid and I didn't have anything to do with each other, even though we've lived in the same village all our lives. But life's weird, and two years ago everything changed. She went from tolerating my existence to disliking me, then to despising me, maybe even full-on hate at one point. Then it all turned around. We became friends. She became my best friend next to Toothless. And then at some point…"

"Love."

"Yeah, love. I say this because you and Saga have… something. You and her are always finding a way to be around each other. Call it meddling Gods, Fate's Luck, Seer's vision, or a lot of universal randomness. But there is something. The question is… do you care about her?"

Nestor nodded his head. He didn't even hesitate. "Call me nuts, but for all her cold shouldering, I can't help but like her. She has that desire to do what's needed, do what's right, even when it costs her. You don't see that in too many people."

Hiccup smiled at Nestor. "Then I wouldn't give up just yet."

"I appreciate your advice, Hiccup. But it doesn't change the fact that she may not feel the same." Nestor wrinkled his forehead in thought. "Still, I just got done telling Arc to lighten up on Saga. Perhaps I should give her more time, wait for the right moment."

"Warn me when you're about to do that," said Hiccup. "That way, I have time to get under cover in case that 'something' I'm talking about triggers an earthquake."

* * *

"I can't believe I'm about to say this," remarked Qiao, "but I'm bored."

Astrid, Saga, and Qiao were two rounds into the next leg of their contest of marksmanship when Qiao made her declaration of boredom. As usual, none of them had missed the bull's eye and today's contest was likely to be a repeat of the previous three days. Their practice weapons were getting bent, gouged, and chipped from repeated use, but everyone had been onboard for continuing the competition.

Astrid didn't say it, but she was thrilled to hear Qiao say those words. This contest had become a grudge match between Qiao and Saga, and the fun factor had faded two days ago. To keep the peace, she had continued the exercise knowing that tomorrow would end it. Their return to Riki Poka and the Harvest Festival would give them plenty to do.

"We have not ascertained a winner yet," said Saga, frowning.

"Like we're going to any time soon," said Qiao, lowering her bow. It was her turn to shoot and no one could skip over a turn, according to their self-made rules. "I thought by now I would triumph over your two, but there's no triumph here."

"This was your idea," said Astrid, instantly regretting saying it. What was she trying to do, start it up again? "I mean, I thought you liked it."

"I did, and now I want it to end. I'm feeling the need to get out and move my legs."

"You are not supposed to leave the confines of the camp," said Saga. "Not without escort."

"Then come with me," Qiao suggested in an irritated tone. "A hike won't kill you."

"I wouldn't mind a hike in the wilderness," said Astrid. "The only reason I didn't go hiking myself was because of all the wolves. The three of us together can handle anything out there."

"Three of us?" said Saga. "I have not consented to this hike."

"Okay, you'll stay here then and _we'll_ go," shot back Astrid. "I'll keep an eye on Qiao."

"See?" said Qiao, smiling smugly at Saga and slinging up her bow as she headed toward the nearest edge of the training clearing. "She has the right attitude."

Perhaps unconsciously, Saga did a pretty good Arc impression by rolling her eyes in annoyance and groaning. She caught up to Qiao and said, "Fine, I will come as well. But only because the idea of you encountering a pack of wolves and being devoured by said pack of wolves fills me with a morbid fascination."

"This doesn't sound as fun as it did a second ago," commented Astrid, following behind.

Turns out, Qiao and Saga didn't ruin anything. They walked mostly in silence, Qiao watching the bounty of flora and fauna around them and Saga watching Qiao watch the bounty. Astrid would have enjoyed the hike more had the forest not been all up-and-downhill with precious flat spots. Her legs weren't used to this kind of endurance activity, and her feet grew sore after a few hours of wandering amongst the trees.

It then occurred to her that two years of riding dragons might have had a consequence or two on her body. Odd, since she was still in trim shape from her sparring. Or maybe these leather boots of hers weren't good for lengthy walks. They were kinda cheap.

Saga showed no discomfort (did she ever?), but Qiao apparently had similar issues as Astrid, steering them to the stream they used for water and cleaning and suggesting a break. Iron-willed and iron-bodied Saga's objection was overruled, again, and soon Astrid and Qiao had their boots off and their feet in the babbling brook.

Saga must not have thought it a bad idea (other than the fact the Qiao suggested it), because a minute later she was sitting between Qiao and Astrid with her feet in the water and trying hard not to let the mild frown on her face slip away. Relaxation was clearly not practiced in Gunnarr culture.

The mood slowly slipped from the tense atmosphere that marked Qiao and Saga's interactions to actual tranquility. Listening to the brook talk while it flowed over your toes. Watching the squirrels dance about the trees like furry acrobats. Having nothing important to worry about, even if only for a few hours. Astrid liked it.

Most of the time she was a girl of action and liked keeping busy, whether it was riding Beatrix in the morning or trying not to burn dinner in the evening. Whether combat or chores, staying occupied meant that something was happening in your life, which meant that things weren't too bad. Be active, be positive. That's how you got through life, in both rough and smooth times.

But there was something to be said about standing still and letting the world move around you. Places like this, out of the way with no expectation other than just existing, had a way of getting you to stop and smell the pine pollen.

No one said anything for some time. Saga and Qiao seemed to be happy to let things be; probably believing that conversation could only make things worse. But mouths can't stay shut forever.

"I don't get you guys," said Qiao, bravely breaking the silence. "This troop of yours. With all your collective talents, you could build an army and conquer a kingdom or three. If I had Arc's invisibility power alone, I could take thieving to a whole new level."

"You think we're wasting our abilities?" asked Astrid, hoping to intercept Saga's predicable rebuttal about the dishonor of theft. Saga had her eyes closed, most likely in a state of meditation, and Astrid didn't want her disturbed.

"No… not really," replied Qiao. "You've all told me the stories about big dragons exploding and wars averted and evil-as-they-get necromancers and war machines from some ancient empire. War machines…" Qiao adopted a wistful look. "We always take something amazing and turn it into something that kills, don't we? That never seems to change. Must be a human quality."

Astrid noticed the odd look on Qiao's face as she talked. Almost seemed like nostalgia, a remembrance of different times. But then Qiao snapped back to her perkier persona and the look disappeared instantly. "Ah… point being, you guys are going against the grain. You don't operate on the might-makes-right approach. And that weirds me out."

"I don't think it's so weird," said Astrid. "I've seen war and I've seen peace. I like peace more. I also like challenges, and it turns out that peace is a lot more challenging."

"Funny, that's what I think. Peace is harder because everyone has a different idea of what peace means. And most people's idea of peace doesn't include strangers with no family."

"Is that how you got into being a thief? No one wanted a stranger around?"

Qiao did a half-nod, half-shrug gesture. "Partly. It's easier to become a thief when people dismiss you as unwanted and the people who don't dismiss you pay well for stolen goods. I know that's not noble, but then a lot of so-called 'nobility' have nothing in common with the word."

"Do you enjoy being a thief?"

"I enjoy the excitement. The stealing is just what I'm good at."

"Would you give it up if you found something to replace it?" Astrid dared to ask.

Qiao leaned in toward Astrid and gave her a sly smile. "Replace it? Is this a subtle invitation to…?" She suddenly glanced at Saga's face and said, "Is she asleep? She hasn't insulted me at all since this conversation started."

"Meditation, I think," Astrid answered. "I'd enjoy it while it lasts."

Qiao laughed and turned back to Astrid with an impish grin. "Thanks, Astrid. Maybe I will stay on and fight evil with you." She waited a few seconds for a reaction from Saga and was disappointed that Saga's face didn't wrinkle or twitch once.

Defeated, Qiao relaxed again and said, "Funny thing, Astrid. I thought you were out here for your boyfriend."

"Well, yeah, there's that," said Astrid, smiling.

"Hey, don't get me wrong. He seems like a good guy. Treats me better than Sourpuss here or Mr. Uptight." She glanced at Saga. Nothing. "I hope you beat the odds."

"Beat the odds?" echoed Astrid. As well wishing went, it was only slighty better than saying _I'm betting on the two of you breaking up before spring._

"Astrid, I need an honest answer," blurted out Saga, the act of opening her eyes and speaking making the thief recoil and Astrid jump in her seat.

"Uh… sure," said Astrid. "You sure you want to ask me this _now_?"

Saga responded by twisting to face Qiao and saying, "Do you intend on ever misusing my intimate thoughts, knowing that the Gunnarr word for _revenge_ is the same as _slow death_?"

Qiao got the point and shook her head.

Saga twisted to Astrid and said, "Honest answer – am I difficult?"

Not wanting to court Gunnarr "revenge," Qiao had to bite hard on her knuckles to stifle the laughter that almost escaped her. Good thing Saga's back was to her or she wouldn't have hidden it.

Astrid was used to Saga's bluntness, but even she was stunned by the question. "I… never thought you were particularly difficult."

"That is a yes, then," said Saga, not happy with the answer.

"You can be," said Astrid, going with full honesty. "But we all can be. Hiccup could tell you stories about my difficult moments."

"Except you have no trouble making friends. The only person I can count as a friend currently is you."

Qiao clamped down harder on her mouth. Astrid really hoped Qiao could keep it together… for her sake.

"That's not true," replied Astrid. "You and Nestor are friends."

Mentioning Nestor made Saga's face fall further. "I am no longer sure of that. I may have convinced him to think otherwise." She looked away to the stream, her voice laced with a sad inflection that even Qiao no longer found gut busting. Qiao found the resolve to calm down and sincerely listen. Good on her.

"Most of my life, I found friendship to be a liability," continued Saga, "and that was only when it was not actively discouraged by my father. As the daughter of the chief and as the Seer, there were many wishing to use me as a stepping-stone to power. Even my father and brother saw me as a tool to their continued influence within the clan and not as family. A chance at friendship was a chance at abuse. So I guarded myself… and it is very easy to be on guard."

"I understand, Saga," spoke Astrid tenderly. "It's hard growing up in a world like that. Even in the best of times, it's scary letting other people in. But you _did_ let me in, and I don't have any regrets." She put a hand on Saga's shoulder. "Not so long ago, you told me about embracing our humanity, how it's not easy for people like you and me to do that."

"Well, me personally…" started Qiao, but one dirty look from Astrid ended her comment.

"Well, you were right," continued Astrid. "It's not easy and sometimes I catch myself falling into old patterns. It takes time to change. But you also have to want it. Do you want a friendship with Nestor?"

"I do," said Saga. "But I fear it would not stop there." She looked at Astrid once more. "I would not want it to stop there."

"Oohhhhh," said Qiao, a new revelation in her life. "Wow, you learn a new thing each day. You two don't seem real warm to each other, though."

"Qiao!" warned Astrid.

"Qiao is right," said Saga morosely. "By the Gods, I hope to never utter those three words again."

"No, she isn't," said Astrid, warning Qiao with another look. "You two had a fight, and that happens. Nothing is broken. Call it warrior's intuition, but I know there's something between you two."

Less morose now, but far from convinced, Saga said, "How can you see something that _I _cannot?"

Astrid laughed. "I don't see anything, Saga. I'm just hopeful. I need someone to double-date with."

"So how do I fix it?" asked Saga

"Be a friend to him like you are with me. That's a good place to start."

Saga's moroseness faded and she appeared to be mulling over Astrid's advice. On the other hand, Qiao had had enough, proceeding to stand up and reach for her boots with an exasperated groan.

"Can we go now?" she said. "This stream is way too touchy-feely for my tastes."

The trip back was more pleasant now that feelings had been shared. Saga and Qiao managed the rest of the hike without a single insult, a feat thought impossible mere hours ago. Astrid might have even called it a great outing… if Saga hadn't collapsed.

* * *

The three of them had reached the cabin clearing just after sundown, in time to watch Hiccup, Nestor, and Toothless franticly containing a small fire that had claimed the life of Hiccup's drafting desk. They couldn't help but snicker at the boys as they noisily argued over who had left a pile of dirty rags too close to the hot anvil.

That's when Saga felt the inklings of a vision coming on. That stabbing pressure in her head that slowly built into a troll-grip on her skull, the pain coalescing into an image, a set of images, or just a powerful impulsive emotion. Not all her visions were like that – just the important ones, the life-changing ones.

Rarely did she welcome them, but this time she was practically giddy to have it happen. Too many days of vision drought had disturbed her calm. Now she had a sign, a possibility, of things to come.

But instead of the pressure, she felt the strength in her body leave all at once, her eyes rolling upward and his limbs growing heavy and useless. The last thing she remembered was the sensation of her limp body flopping to the grass, her mouth tasting dirt.

Awaiting her was nothing. Soundless, unending nothing.

When she came back to the realm of consciousness, she found that opening her eyes didn't dispel the darkness at all. Panic tried to get a foothold in her mind before she realized that all that had happened was the ending of the day, nothing more. She'd been moved to her bedroll, the glow of a fire off to the side outlining the trees surrounding the clearing.

Her arms and legs felt like they didn't belong to her. Not numb – she knew much about numbness after all her arctic survival training – but weakened, as if drained of all her blood. Sensation returned slowly, her fingers responding as fingers should when she raised a hand to her eyes and rubbed them.

"Please don't do that again," said a voice at her side, a sigh of relief following. She swiveled her head to see Nestor sitting next to her, holding her other hand. She hadn't felt his touch until now. "How are you feeling?"

"Alive, at the very least," she answered, sitting up with a little help from Nestor. She was glad to see his face. It was a reassuring face. "How long?"

"It's close to bedtime, if that gives you an idea," said Nestor. "We were taking turns watching over you. If you're hungry, I saved some dinner…"

"Not so hungry right now," she said, feeling discombobulated and not liking the feeling. Her earlier conversation with Astrid came back to her and she added, "Thank you for the consideration."

Nestor nodded. "I should tell the others."

"Wait, please," she asked. "I do not want them hovering over me. Give me a minute."

Knowing better than to argue, he agreed to wait with her. "Never seen you have a vision like that before. It completely took you out."

"I am not sure this was a vision."

Nestor stared at her with heightened anxiety. "What was it, then?"

Nestor's anxiety was catching, though she kept it from showing. She'd had a thousand prior visions and hundreds of headaches. Never once had a vision taken her down. Never once had she _failed _to remember one. Yet both had now occurred, and that was frightening.

"Whatever it was, there was no vision," she said, adhering to her deeply rooted no-lying principle, despite an urge to cover it up with a made-up vision to hide her fear.

"That worries me more than if you'd just had the whopper of all Armageddon dreams."

"It was different," explained Saga, "like my spirit had just taken a massive blow. I have never felt such a thing. There was no vision."

"Yeah, you said that. We should see a healer. They have them in Riki Poka."

She looked at him impatiently. "A healer? As if one could heal what I have."

"We can't ignore this."

"We will not." She strained to get to her feet, Nestor helping her stand when it was clear that she would not stay lying down. "But it could just be a one-time thing. If it happens again…"

"Then I can panic?" said Nestor.

"You have my permission," said Saga with a light amount of mirth.

"Anyone ever mention you're too stubborn sometimes?"

"I have been told this."

Nestor still held her up even though her legs had regained her strength, and she didn't mind it. Then he realized what he was doing and released her, saying, "While I have you here, I need to apologize."

"Yes, you do," she agreed, "but so do I."

"Ah… yeah, confused," said Nestor. "You didn't do anything wrong back in Riki Poka."

"No, but I should apologize just the same," said Saga. "You try with me, Nestor, and your efforts do not go unnoticed."

"Good to know," he said. "I just want you to know that I think you're plenty human. I only hope that you'll…"

Right then, Astrid noticed Saga standing up and the rest of the group got up from their seats around the fire to greet her and ask countless questions she couldn't answer. Nestor moved away to give room to the others, the rest of his statement abandoned. For the first time in her life, she would have rather kept talking with Nestor and skipped the Seer-duty part of her life.

Arc didn't harass or belittle her, which was an adequate improvement in behavior. Qiao dared to offer a polite statement of _glad you didn't die and force us to spend all night digging a grave, _which was also an adequate improvement.

But none of it made her feel better. Seers didn't die from their visions – many lived into their elderly years, granting wisdom from wrinkled and gnarled bodies – but there was a first time for everything. Hopefully this was a fluke, and not in and of itself a portent of _her _future.


	10. Vikings Don't Dance

**Chapter Nine: Vikings Don't Dance **

_A sea urchin_, mused Cragfist, _or some unnatural pinecone._

Cragfist would have come up with other ideas had his imagination not been scrubbed out of his mind years ago. Regardless, the thing the Alchemist fawned over, the thing that had taken up most of her time during the last few weeks, resembled a random piece of nature's garbage than any pretty artifact. The thing must have spent too much time in an active volcano. Circular in shape but with a blackened surface dotted with pointy bumps, it occupied a corner of the _Zenith's_ main hold that had been cleared out and cordoned off. Its height ended at his neckline, but it weighted far more than its size implied.

The Recorder. Exactly what did that mean?

Oh, right. _Magic stuff._ Gods, he hated deviltry, but that was not a wise thing to say when you were chin deep in it, surrounded on all sides.

The Alchemist didn't notice him initially when he slid past the flimsy curtain barricade and stood behind her. She pawed the Recorder's surface like she was looking for the hidden catch on a treasure box, moving her hands in a strange pattern while placing and replacing a trio of hexagon-shaped stone objects at different points on the sphere. These things glowed like all the other glowing things on the ship, but they glowed different shades of color based on where they were placed. Norom called them … Oh, Hel's vultures, he didn't care about the names. He didn't care about any of this except when it applied to him getting closer to the names on his revenge list.

"I take it Norom sent you down here," said the Alchemist, her attention on the Recorder. She moved one of the devices to another location, causing it to switch to an ocean blue. "More precisely, you _better_ be here because Norom sent you."

"He said that you're out of time, Alchemist," he replied. "It's morning, you've worked all night, and…"

"I get the gist, Cragfist." If she did, she didn't act like it, moving another device to atop one of the pointy knots on the Recorder. "Tell Norom I almost have the code and that we can delay another three hours without…"

"Norom said you'd say that. So he also said to mention that we had an incident last night and that we no longer have the time you thought we had."

"Incident?" She turned to Cragfist, showing off the bags under her eyes. She really had pulled an all-nighter. "Why wasn't…? Oh, yes, the do-not-disturb-under-pain-of-death edict."

As she plucked all the weird devices off the Recorder, she spoke to herself. Cragfist, used to constant attacks on his intelligence, first thought she had decided that a one-person discussion was better than talking to him. Then he realized that she was actually talking to the Recorder, which, while still an insult, put the madness squarely on her.

"You won this battle, but don't think this is over," she said. "I will crack you eventually. Patience is my power. You, on the other hand, are stuck on this ship with nowhere to go but back into the depths of the cold sea. In time, you'll wish you cooperated."

She stormed away in a huff, not even giving Cragfist an order to follow as she climbed the stairs to the deck. Cragfist took another look at the artifact, shaking his head at the insanity of it all…

It moved.

More precisely, it rocked slightly back and forth in place, as if a wave had gently pushed the ship. That would have made sense if Cragfist had felt the rocking himself and if the ship didn't have the stability of an island.

As he stared, the artifact rocked in place one more time, less pronounced as before but no less obvious. Like it wanted him to see it wiggle.

No, not biting. Cragfist knew better than to probe below the surface of this mystery. He left the taunting artifact in his dust.

On deck, crewmembers were swarming about the ship attending to a hundred different chores, checking and double-checking equipment that resembled rocks, rocks, and more rocks. Shining, clear, smooth rocks, or black, irregular rocks, but rocks just the same. Some of them were piled up in clusters on the deck, others were attached to belts or armbands worn by the "pilots." Cragfist had no idea what those chosen crewmembers were going to do with all those fancy rocks and, as always, he didn't want to know.

An occasional flash of silver amongst the crew indicated the presence of mystical steel, much like the sword he now carried on his back as a reward for good intelligence (as in information, not the other kind, which he admitted he sorely lacked). Such weapons were given out only to lieutenants and a select few who had done the Alchemist a great service. This Qiao character was turning into a pivotal player and Cragfist's information might have saved the whole operation… or so Cragfist liked to believe.

A few sailors were eavesdropping on the discussion between Norom and The Alchemist near the port side of the ship. Cragfist slithered his way to join them, pretending he was looking out to sea like the other sailors. There was a thick fog around the ship that made the sun into a cloudy specter above them and the sea into a misty curtain around them. They _always _parked the ship in a fog – Cragfist had begun to suspect that the fog was a feature of the _Zenith_, a force of weather they could call to their aid when needed.

On this morning, they weren't alone in the fog. Off the port side, the disintegrated remains of a fishing vessel floated alongside the ship, the bigger chunks rising and falling with the turbulent waves. The biggest pieces had either sunk or been vaporized.

Not Cragfist's fault in the slightest. For once, this was Norom's folly. From what Cragfist had heard via the grapevine, Norom had been on night watch when the little fishing boat stumbled across them, the crew of the doomed vessel freaking when they saw the gigantic warship anchored not all that far from their city. To be fair, Norom did what Cragfist would have done – he removed the witnesses. He ordered the fishing boat and the four fishermen onboard Scoured.

Cragfist didn't know what it meant to be Scoured. He hadn't witnessed it personally. Top-secret junk. He just knew that it was something you didn't want happening to you.

Going by her yelling and Norom's downcast eyes, the Alchemist didn't approve. Someone at Riki Poka would be missing the boat and those fishermen fairly soon. Search parties would be sent out, which meant more ships that might stumble onto them. Cragfist kept his face averted to hide his smile.

Having given Norom a stern lecture about discretion, she came over to Cragfist and demanded his attention. "Congratulations, you won the contest."

"Um…"

"My lieutenants and I had a contest going as to how long it would take you to screw up my plans. I had bet that it would be one of them, not you. Overconfidence breeds miscalculation, and I was correct. We now have little time to spare, so they get to implement the backup plan they spent a week putting together while you have the honor of patrolling the demonstration tomorrow, along with Norom and a few other hand-selected soldiers."

Was this a good thing? Walking around on guard duty with Norom - not something he considered a reward. She had to know they didn't get along. Maybe she was punishing Norom more than rewarding him.

"I… am happy to do this?" he lied… badly.

The Alchemist snickered. "Trust me, you'll like it. We're having a party tomorrow at Outcast Bay, with lots of guests expecting quite the show. It'll be an experience you will never forget. And who knows? If you lucky, someone on your list might show up. We wouldn't want that nice sword of yours to go to waste, would we?"

* * *

Since beginning his journey across the Mainland, Hiccup found at least one new thing about dragon riding each day that made him appreciate it even more than the previous day. Today's revelation was actually a repeat – finding an out-of-the-way location that only a dragon could get to.

No stranger to beachfront property, Hiccup was somewhat unfamiliar with beaches composed of soft, grainy sand that molded to the contours of your feet when you walked on it. Berk was all pebble and scraggly stone, the way Vikings were supposed to like it.

Down a frightening cliff drop and behind a series of shoals that made the beach inaccessible to ships, the beach was rarely touched by the tide and untouched by anything save for a few adventurous sand crabs. It was less than ten minutes from Riki Poka and had a great view of the eastern horizon and the next day's sunrise.

Perfect.

Standing in the middle of the beach, the morning sun only now deigning to wake up and do its job, Hiccup thought he could live with this. He didn't want to spend the night in Riki Poka. It'd be too crazy and every inn was already booked. And going back to the cabin wasted valuable Hiccup-Astrid time, especially since they weren't going to be by themselves again for some time.

_Make today count, _Arc had said to all of them. _After today, we don't know what the future holds for us. Many days at sea, for certain, but also many unknown threats and dangers. Today is your day to enjoy life without reservation. I suggest you make the most of it._

Hiccup planned to. Too bad he already felt guilty.

Toothless sat next to him, managing to look both sad _and_ mad at the same time. Once again, he was being left out of the proceedings, and this after Hiccup told him such a thing wouldn't happen again. At least he hadn't made any promises – Toothless understood promises and he would've fried Hiccup's hair for breaking one.

"Bud, we can't blow this deal by riling up the city," Hiccup explained, rubbing his pal on the snout. "If I didn't have to go make a fool out of myself, I'd spend the day with you instead."

Toothless grumbled and looked away. The Night Fury cold shoulder.

"Bud, think about it. We're about to be at sea again, with nothing but lots of water and lots of fish around us. How do you think we'll keep ourselves occupied?"

That seemed to help. Toothless looked at him again and the grumbling sounds had quit.

"How about this? Today I trust you to fly on your own. Go out and have fun doing… whatever Night Furies do for fun. Just be back at our rendezvous site at sundown. Does that help?"

A slow, unhappy waggle of the head. The dragon equivalent of _better than nothing._

Hiccup gave Toothless a squeeze around the neck, which Toothless leaned into and accepted. The dragon was going to forgive him this time. He'd have to make it up to him, which meant he had several hours of vomit-inducing acrobatics in his future. But no one ever said penance came cheap.

"It sucks, pal," declared Hiccup, "but I'm proud of you for putting up with it. Tomorrow will be different, Toothless. That, I promise." Yes, he was making a promise, but he meant it. Tomorrow would be different, and his best friend wouldn't feel left out any longer.

As it turned out, it was a very safe promise to make.

* * *

While it was safe to say that Riki Poka never strayed too far from a festival-like atmosphere, it pulled out all the stops when it was time for the annual Harvest Festival. Did you think the streets were crowded before? Try not to get crushed by the literal waves of partygoers flowing by. Did you think the Market District had everything under the sun? _Every_ street was the Market District today. You had to tie a rope around your waist and tether yourself to your friends to move through the city.

In other words, Harvest Festival was a big deal.

It wasn't all crowds and congestion. The more open areas became spillways for the masses, where entertainers from all across the coast (and further) came to juggle, dance, sing, or paint their way into your purse. The pubs and inns were open and doing bountiful business, struggling to slate the thirsty streams of humanity. The bay had a boat flotilla on display, with dozens of creative captains showing off their artistic side of seamanship. Murals and carpets of flowers, colored sails and gaudy uniforms – sometimes breathtakingly beautiful, other times so over-the-top that someone had to have banned the term _ostentatious_ from coming within twenty miles of the city.

The Dancing Clam could no more resist the city's mood than any other pub, already full of well-paying jovial customers. But these customers were the local types who were seeking refuge from the party. Too many guards on the streets today for any known hooligan or vagabond to go hunting, despite the fat pickings right outside.

The back section of the Clam was customer-free but far from devoid of activity. The pub's storeroom featured a curtain and dresser set up on the far end of the room, away from the kegs of liquor and beer. Nestor sat on an empty keg and awaited the grand unveiling of Hiccup's prize-winning getup. The girls had set up shop in Linebreaker's office, where they were helping Astrid get ready for her public debut. Arc had stayed out of the city, attending to a matter of Hyperion business before their voyage tomorrow, while Toothless was probably flying the friendly skies.

Based on the complaining coming from the hidden side of the curtain, there was a little issue concerning Hiccup's metal foot.

"The cloth is stuck in the spring," said Hiccup.

"Are you sure you're wearing the same foot?" answered Linebreaker. "My measurements are usually very reliable."

"I only have the one! I can't walk with the pants leg jamming my foot."

"Be at ease, I'll just hem it. You're not the first person with artificial limbs that I've made clothing for…. One pin here… one more over here…"

"OWW!"

"Sorry, that wasn't cloth…. Okay, try that."

"I suppose that works as long as I don't have to run for my life."

"No one said fashion wasn't dangerous. Now greet your public!"

Nestor's smile widened in anticipation when the curtain parted with a flourish, Hiccup and Linebreaker stepping into the torchlight together. Much to Nestor's surprise, the jester suit he'd envisioned Hiccup wearing was nowhere to be seen. In fact, Hiccup's outfit was extremely well tailored, not too tight nor too loose. He'd gone with a dark-gray buttoned shirt with long sleeves and zero pockets, along with black pants and a matching pair of leather boots.

Boots, plural. Linebreaker had made some customizations to Hiccup's metal foot, so that it now had a certain boot-like quality to it without largely interfering with its operation. Holes in the side and sole of the boot allowed the mechanism to bounce and twist where needed, but Hiccup's tentative gait and the slight hitch in his step showed that Linebreaker's engineering sense didn't match his fashion sense.

"What do you think?" said Linebreaker. "And be brutal, for how else can I learn?"

"Does it work?" said Hiccup hesitantly.

"Work?" said Nestor. "I think you grew a few years behind the curtain." Hiccup appreciated the sentiment, though he couldn't help feeling like he was his five-year-old self again, trying on his dad's warrior outfits and finding them a very poor fit. These clothes might fit him, but they didn't really fit "him."

"You don't think the neckline is too thin?" asked Linebreaker. "I thought a collar might be more appropriate, but I was afraid the boy's head would disappear beneath it."

"Everywhere I go, size jokes," said Hiccup. "I want to mention that I'll be walking very carefully today."

"You guys decent in there?" The voice was Qiao's, her head poking through the doorway. Her grin implied she was dying to make the big reveal. "We're ready on our end."

Linebreaker waved her in, Qiao moving aside to let Astrid through the doorway. Saga joined Qiao at the doorway, Saga wearing a smile of approval in regards to the end result of their joint effort.

Not used to wearing the accouterments of female garb, Astrid acted downright timid as she entered the storeroom to let the boys get a good look. The bottom half of her dress flashed emerald while her bare-shouldered strapped top was sky-blue. The dried necklace of violets she'd gotten at Weed adorned her neck, and a white flower of a fresher state had been stuck in her hair, which was no longer braided but loose and flowing, partly down her back and partly around her shoulders. Her boots were the only part of her ensemble still vaguely warriorish.

"So… does it work?" she asked, grabbing the folds of her dress as if not knowing what to do with it. It was a dumb question, but as out of her comfort zone as she was, she had to say _something_.

"Exquisite," said Linebreaker, far more used to beautiful women in dresses than Nestor and Hiccup, who were stuck at the wide-eyed staring part of their admiration.

There were times that Hiccup wished he were one of those suave lady-killer types who had too much ego and barely any brains. _That_ guy could come up with something pithy and romantic to say. He'd never seen Astrid in a dress, not once in all the years he'd known her, and the shock had all but paralyzed his mouth. She was already a ravaging beauty in normal times. Now it was like Freya, the goddess of love, was standing before him in mortal form.

"Gah… blarg… splugblug…" he said.

"What he said," remarked Nestor.

"His brain has shut down," said Qiao from the doorway. "Success."

"Beauty has been known to cloud the minds of men," commented Saga. "A useful battlefield tactic."

"Not everything has to be graded on how battle-related it is, you know," replied Qiao.

"Pretty," blurted out Hiccup, desperately trying to get his brain working again. "Pretty, very pretty, outstanding, lovely, please make me stop talking…"

Astrid did so by giving him a kiss, Hiccup's fumbling successfully making her awkwardness go away. "You look pretty good yourself. I like what he did with your leg."

"Just don't make me dance on it," he lightly quipped, back in control of his mouth. "I don't think I'd survive the experience."

* * *

Dancing, naturally, was the first thing they did.

Linebreaker demanded exposure for his outfits, and the best exposure could be found at one of several dancing circles scattered about the city. Nothing fancy had to be done, but they did have to get noticed. The impartial judges hired to decide the contest between Lord Benzyl and Linebreaker would be circling at designated times and spots, meaning that Hiccup and Astrid had to participate in three different dances during the day. Other than that, they had free reign.

This did not sit well with Hiccup. There were many misconceptions about Vikings, but one of those misconceptions wasn't all that misconceived – Vikings don't dance. They had raucous parties where something like dancing occurred, if throwing your body around in a fit of drunken idiocy counted. There were even attempts to sync it up with music from time to time. But as an art form, Vikings never tried it. Not manly enough. Warrior-poets, yes. Dancers, no.

Then take a scrawny string bean like Hiccup and put a false leg on him that couldn't pivot at the ankle. Then ask him to dance.

Always the more risk taking of the two of them, Astrid literally dragged Hiccup into the center of the first dancing circle, where they were ringed by other dancers and a crowd of curious onlookers who couldn't help staring at them. Whether it was Astrid's shining beauty or Hiccup's boot-wrapped metal foot, Linebreaker's strategy had worked like a charm.

Having watched a few dance routines before entering the circle, they managed to not crash into anyone their first time out. It started with a slow dance, allowing the two of them to hold hands and get the rhythm without incident. The steady flow of the string music and Astrid's reassuring smile placated Hiccup's mood to the point where he almost began enjoying himself.

Then the local band switched to a bouncy high-speed song and that's when the first rule governing Hiccup's life kicked in – first attempts must always end, or nearly end, in disaster. The couples around him switched to a swinging style of dance with more twisting and turning and improvising. Not a problem if you didn't have two left feet… or one right foot and a metal brace.

Reliable Astrid knew this and tried to keep the pressure off his left foot, which made their dancing more stilted as a result. Not wanting to ruin the contest with bad dancing, Hiccup dared to pick up the pace and do a fast spin on his left leg when the dance routine called for it. The foot locked up halfway through the turn, a victim of the pivot problem, and his momentum nearly toppled him into the crowd.

Again, thank the Gods for Astrid. In a surprising move that had Saga written all over it, Astrid held onto his hand and yanked him into a reverse spin, putting him back on his right leg and whirling with him until he had control again. The crowd had seen the accident about to happen and was so impressed with the recovery that they gave them a round of clapping.

Now that they knew not to expect much from Hiccup's left foot, the two of them wisely avoided dances with too much footwork. No further near-disasters occurred the rest of the day.

They never saw the roaming judges, which was the way it was supposed to be, according to the rules. That way, the contestants couldn't influence the judging. With all the jabbering about "the boy with the metal leg" filtering through the crowd, Hiccup safely assumed a judge or two had seen them in action at one of the dances.

In-between obligatory dancing, Hiccup and Astrid found plenty of things to do. Plays at outdoor theatres showing Greek tragedies and epic battles fought with fake swords and red ribbons for blood. Legions of carts and vendors yelling out their sales pitches, every one of them stating they had the best products with the best prices. Acrobats in perpetual motion, playing with fire or with poisonous snakes (so they claimed), scaring the faint of heart. Swamis and monks from around the world demonstrating the benefits of mind over matter by sticking spears, and swords against their skin, fire-walking over coals, or sleeping on a bed of nails.

After the first dance, Nestor and the others had left to enjoy the day in their own way. But they had a meeting spot picked out by Linebreaker, a location in a clearing not far from Outcast Bay that was easy to get to, and they needed to be there by sunrise the next morning. From there, Linebreaker would take them to his hidden ship. Until then, they were all on their own recognizance.

"Is there any actual 'harvesting' at a Harvest Festival?" asked Astrid at one point, when they had stopped to have a bite of some exotic dish dubbed "curry." She must have a fireproof tongue because she was really enjoying it. Hiccup tasted it and had to spit it out due to the intense spice. Enough of that stuff and he might be able to breathe fire like Toothless.

"Linebreaker said that's how it started," said Hiccup, "but you know how traditions morph over time."

"Whatever it used to be, I like this version better," said Astrid.

Hiccup agreed. Riki Poka had grown on him, and today was ending up a pretty good day. The cultures of the world all came to celebrate Harvest Festival, and it could make a tired soul think the world was worth saving.

And then the guilt. Because Toothless wasn't here to enjoy it as well. His bud deserved to be part of this. Hopefully Toothless had found something fun to do on his own. At least he might enjoy the curry-flavored fish he was bringing back for supper. Then again, considering that fire came out of his mouth all the time, he might not even know the difference.

* * *

No matter how much things can improve in your life, some weights can't be lifted. Nestor understood this all too well, which was why he did the wise thing and headed for Riki Poka's "park," finding a little corner of the fenced-in woodland spot to stay out of the way of the festive throngs and read a book. He didn't want to press his luck and accidentally trigger a witch-hunt. That could spoil things with Linebreaker.

He had decided not to ask Saga to join him. Not sense spoiling her fun just because he was overcautious. He told her where he'd be and she acted like she understood his logic, though he picked up on her disappointment. She obviously would have rather spend time with him than with Qiao, but she did find the city intriguing and Qiao was still willing to play tour guide one final time. They promised to meet up later.

Park – interesting concept. A piece of nature _inside_ civilization. The city even went to the effort of maintaining it by cutting the grass and trimming the trees. It seemed silly at first – if you wanted nature, you just had to step outside the boundaries of the city – but he had to admit that a predator-free preserve, with nothing to worry about other than ants and bees, had its attraction.

The book in his hands had a story behind the story, and he chuckled just thinking about it. He overheard a vendor hawking a new book series that had just come out, and a small crowd had gathered to hear an excerpt from the exciting tale of Burp, the Dragon Rider.

Burp.

That alone required Nestor to buy a copy, one of those cheap hand-bound versions that took days to scribe and bind. The penmanship for an Old Frank translation was poor but legible. Sitting down within a copse of pines with his back to the city, Nestor dove into the book with gusto, laughing frequently.

While it was amazing how quickly the rumors from up north had made it down to Riki Poka, or how quickly some poverty-stricken scribe had capitalized on it, the truly incredible part was how _wrong_ the tale was. Did the rumors get _that_ distorted, or was this a case of a writer thinking the story needed to be punched up for the public?

Burp, a valiant warrior, who tamed the nasty black dragon Fearless with his iron will and astounding abs. Burp, who led his tribe into a great battle against hundreds of man-eating dragons, decimating their ranks and breaking through their lines until he fought the Queen Dragon single-handedly and sent her headless carcass into the sea. Burp, who now led the people of Perk as their new leader and who had a hundred statues made of his gigantic likeness.

He absolutely _had _to show this to Hiccup.

But for all it got wrong, it did prove to be an exciting tale, if a bit clichéd and riddled with plot holes. Plus it implied a sequel that suggested dealings with dark magic. Maybe the writer had gotten wind of the latest adventures of Burp. Would Burp soon be joined in his battles by Fester, the tall, dark stranger with a tragic past and unnatural powers?

"Interesting read," whispered a voice from above. "I especially like the tacked-on duel between Burp and Bloodlout, his eternal rival."

"It's rude to read over people's shoulders, Old Man," said Nestor without looking up from his book. Even if he had, all he would have seen was Arc's Shroud. The park foliage wasn't dense enough to hide a dragon, so obviously Arc was still incognito.

"Why aren't you out enjoying the city?" said Arc in his ear. "Don't tell me you're still afraid of street rats with rocks."

"Just trying not to make a scene,' said Nestor. He checked about to make sure he was out of earshot from other park dwellers. Save for the birds above him, who'd gone quiet due to Arc's presence, they were good.

"You have friends now that aren't dragonoid," stated Arc. "They can help you in these matters."

"They should be out having fun, not worrying about me getting accused of witchcraft," he replied. "Didn't you have business to attend to?"

"It's finished. It was only a minor affair. But if you would rather be alone…"

"I didn't mean it like that," he hurriedly blurted out. Despite trying to act nonchalant about his solitude, he was actually glad for the company. "I just… I guess I'm really out of touch with civilization. My first instincts still are to run from it."

Arc lowered himself in-between a set of bushes, flattening the wild grass below him, the brush obscuring most of the incriminating signs of his presence. "I fear I'm at fault for that. For your survival, it was important for you to be careful around the huddled masses of society. But you don't have to remain as isolated as you think you do."

"Maybe, but then again I really don't want to ruin our plans by testing out how truly enlightened the citizens of Riki Poka are and whether they run off sorcerers or just flog them a lot."

Arc made a reluctant grunt of agreement. "Very well. Then if I am not allowed to read over your shoulder, perhaps you can read me that book in your hands. The tale of Burp enthralls me with its absurd charm."

Nestor chuckled and flipped the book to the beginning. Indeed, the tale of Burp was worth a repeat reading.

* * *

Not all events in the city were performances. On the northern edges of the city were competitions of every color. Horse and wagon races, foot races, dog races, frog races, even snail races. Weight lifting alongside tug-o-war, archery contests next to boxing contests. Some likened it to a miniature, informal Olympics, with the addition of gambling on the side.

Two things intrigued Qiao – the archery and the gambling.

"See, this is the one time that my skills can pay off without any laws getting broken," said Qiao, standing off to the side of the archery contest next to Saga and the rest of the onlookers, watching the latest round of amateur archers fire off their five designated arrows. A very pathetic bunch this time out, hitting everything around the bull's eye – grass, hay bales, a bee with suicidal tendencies – but rarely the target.

Qiao wasn't about to belittle them. Everyone started out by missing their target. Then again, the time to work on your aim was during practice and not out in public.

"All you have to do is just place the bet for me," she said, handing Saga her money purse, one of her few possessions not impounded by Arc. She pointed at a shady fellow surrounded by other shady fellows away from the crowd. "That's the bet taker for the Cutthroat gang. They gamble for bigger stakes than most money lenders, but they also cut off your ears if you don't pay up."

"More thieves, I take it," said Saga disapprovingly. Qiao obviously meant to follow through with this plan, what with the new armband on her left arm proudly proclaiming the number 53 in bold white coloring. It was her contestant designation, as well as her place in the shooting lineup.

"Yes, they're thieves. But look at it this way. If this works, and it will, I'll be taking money from those thieves. They have to honor their bets or they lose respect with the other gangs. Does that meet with your approval?"

"Barely," said Saga. "Have you tried this before?"

Qiao shook her head. "You can't bet on yourself. They always cry _cheat_ if you do that. And after today, they won't fall for our routine again. We have to make the most of it this time before they close their coffers to me. I'll even split the proceeds with you, thirty-seventy."

"I do not care about money."

"Then you can give it to Arc or spread it around as you want, and this'll keep me from stealing for a long time." Qiao applied her charming smile. "C'mon, what do you say?"

Saga glanced at the bet taker and his crew, perhaps assessing how dangerous they would be if they thought they were being had. Then a wry smile found its way to her lips. There didn't appear to be any downside to this plan. If Qiao failed, she'd be taught a lesson in humility. If she succeeded, the money she brought in would aid their mission. And if Qiao tried anything underhanded, Saga would finally have a reason to punish her.

"What do I tell the bet taker?"

Qiao smiled widely. "Tell him to put the money on Contestant 53 at twice regulation range, five consecutive dead-center shots." Qiao held up a black scarf. "Blindfolded."

* * *

Once he was a proud dragon, flying high and fast across the endless heavens. Once upon a time, he would have caught an eastern wind current and gone sailing over the earth for hours on end, just for the adventure. He'd travel across mountain and prairie, desert and forest, sand and water, sending the birds into a tizzy as he barreled past their formations. He was master of one, undefeatable in the sky, unanswerable to any save his own whims and desires.

Toothless didn't miss it at all.

With a tailwind propelling him and cotton ball clouds beneath him, Toothless tried to rekindle that old fire of independence within him… and found the flame sputtering on the wick.

The dragon performed a high-speed turn, vapor trails sprouting from his wings as he held the turn to the point of stalling. He released it and let himself fall for a bit, angling down to pick up speed until he was right on top of the clouds, then pulling out and climbing back towards the sun, whirling around several times for effect.

The dragon sighed. Just wasn't the same without Hiccup's cry of excitement.

A master of one was another name for being alone. Once you got a taste of companionship, you couldn't go back to old habits, old ways of thinking. Certainly his instincts were there, and they'd take over again if the need arose. But to what end?

Just to be alone again?

Toothless understood some of what was going on. There was something important everyone was doing in the place with all the humans, the place that was far bigger than the little place that was now his home. Hiccup told him so, and Toothless believed him. He knew that most humans were not thrilled with his kind, even though the people of that other little place that was not his home had not been scared of him. But there were too many people in that big place. Too many people with too many weapons.

Hiccup made a promise that things would change, and he would be a part of the action once again. Toothless knew the word _promise_ to mean an act that had to be done, and so Toothless believed Hiccup. Sadly, it didn't make solitary travel through the sky less bothersome.

He almost didn't see it, as full of self-pity as he was. As he ascended once again, something off to his right gave off a tiny trail of vapor, as if it had just banked hard while trying to keep up with Toothless. The vapor faded away and the "something" was hidden from sight, but the ruse was up.

The unknown adversary was flying with him. So much for solitary travel.

Toothless kept his head forward, resisting the temptation to look at the adversary's last known position. He knew better than to go after the invisible flyer. It could match him in speed and knew how to evade him. Hopefully it hadn't yet realized it had been noticed. The dragon wagered that if he acted like everything was normal, the flyer would assume Toothless remained ignorant, and it would grow overconfident and careless in its actions.

He flew steadily for a time, contemplating all the possible ways he could expose the threat or even corner it. This would be an easier task with Hiccup around – the boy had more cleverness in him than a hundred dragons put together. He had to lure the threat into a trap of some kind, one it wouldn't see as a trap until it was too late.

Passing over a set of mountains many miles east of the big human place, Toothless began to fear that he had eaten more than he could swallow. He knew clouds could reveal the flyer, but he didn't believe the flyer was stupid enough to follow him into a cloudbank. The rain clouds were keeping away today, though a few scattered dark clouds floated lower to the ground, near the peaks of the white-capped mountains…

Inspiration. No, the flyer wouldn't willingly follow Toothless into a cloud, so he had to remove the willing part.

Toothless scanned the mountains below him, hoping to find the right combination of terrain and weather to enable his plan. He didn't search for long, as one proper opportunity presented itself a few miles to his right. He shifted direction until he was aimed at a more mountainous section of the range, a spot with a thin gap between two towering peaks, and began dropping altitude. Thanks to his long years of flying and eagle-like eyesight, he judged the gap as adequate to fit him. With Hiccup onboard, it would have been too dangerous to try navigating the gap, especially at the speed he was about to go.

A gray cloud drooped behind the gap, swallowing up the landscape beyond. Nice and moist-looking. It would hide him from the flyer if he entered it.

Toothless deepened his dive, bending back his ears as the wind shrieked out a long warning. To the mystery flyer, it should look like more Night Fury daredeviling. He aimed for the midpoint of the gap, halfway down the height of the mountain. Too far down to pull up and avoid the cloud, not without stalling or crashing.

The flyer might not take the bait. But if it didn't follow, Toothless could lose him around the mountains or in the cloud. This flyer was tailing him for some reason, and it would have to stay close to him.

Toothless believed this flyer was much like him – a being born to rule the air. It would follow.

The mountains fast approached, looming like a pair of rocky tidal waves. The gap was very small… maybe too small. Night Furies made mistakes like any other dragon, and it would be embarrassing to die splattered on the rocks like a dumb hatchling.

Grimacing with determination, the dragon sped into the gap, legions of windswept stone speeding by him at a disorienting rate. Colliding with the walls would rip the scales from his flesh faster than he could gulp a trout. Toothless focused on the puffy grayness about to greet him, desperately denying any thought of slowing down or ascending.

Seconds screamed by with the wind. The gap narrowed too much to allow for any error, his wingtips practically scraping the walls. One little mistake…

Then the grayness collided with him, taking the rest of the world away from his sight, and for one terrifying breath of life Toothless thought he had badly misjudged the situation, that the cloud was deeper in the gap, blinding him to a hidden outcropping or cliff. He almost couldn't see the walls, the clouds shielding the stone, hiding it.

Then the tone of the wind changed, the echo of his passage against the rocky walls instantly fading as he exited the gap. The world remained a gray blob of moisture, but that had always been the plan.

Toothless decelerated, swinging his nubile neck below him to stare back the way he came. He watched for a sign, any sign, of pursuit. He wasn't disappointed.

The misty distortion rushed through the gap, not even trying to slow down or divert course. The moisture in the mist either clung to it or parted in front of it, revealing part of the flyer – wings, a tail, claws or talons dangling below it. Too little detail to recognize, but it was definitely a natural flyer. Having seen Toothless slow down, perhaps even noticing the dragon's rear-facing posture, it tried to slow down or change direction but instead writhed in panic. It sped past Toothless and had almost gotten itself back in control when Toothless unleashed a trio of fireballs right in its path.

Toothless wasn't out to kill it, even though he could have at that moment. Night Furies had two great talents – flying and fireballs. The art of the fireball was just as vital as the science of flying, because there was a difference between baking your prey into dinner and frying it into ashes. Toothless could make little baby fireballs that popped as harmlessly as bubbles, but he also could put more air than gas into the mixture and create a blast more showy than flaming.

The fireballs he sent against the flyer exploded one after the other, sizzling the mist and expanding in great gouts of weak blue flame. The fire coated the invisible voyeur, outlining it in its entirety. The flyer let out a cry of surprise… a growl, in fact.

So did Toothless.

It may have been a long time since he'd seen one, but there was no mistaking the panther-like contours and sleek profile of a Night Fury.


	11. Just Us Two

**Author's Bigger-Than-Average Note: **Feel free to skip downward, as this might go on for a bit.

Note Number 1: I updated the story with a new chapter early last Friday (7/20/12), as I always do, and the site showed I had done so. But it didn't materialize as an actual new chapter until Saturday. Apparently there was some snafu on the servers that day. Guess I'm glad I warned people about delays the week before; turned out to be somewhat prophetic.

Note Number 2: It finally occured to me that there's a TV series that's about to begin. I knew it was coming, but I figured that I could handwave it as taking place in that two-year window between the movie and Standing Against, Standing Between. But after looking at some potential details on the web (and mind you, never put too much faith in Internet rumors), I suspect there will be plot lines and characters that don't quite jive with my series. It may not be that much of a problem, considering that they will probably keep the show's plot lines self-contained so as not to interfere with the HTTYD/Dragons/Whatever-They're-Calling-It movie sequel, but who knows what they'll end up doing.

So here's my verdict (which I'll mention again at the beginning of my future stories): for my series, the TV show is considered _non-canon_... _unless_ I say otherwise. You can assume similar events to those depicted occured, but just don't assume the actual series is part of this fanfic's background. I already have the rest of my fanfic series mapped out, but I may incorporate a few elements from the show to spice things up where needed.

Onwards.

**Chapter Ten: Just Us Two**

Her master would not be pleased.

The flames lingered painlessly on her fireproof scales and illuminated her like a lighthouse. She had been outthought here. She had relied too much on non-Night Fury trickery, not her own dragon instincts. The gap within the cloudbank had seemed like too brazen a risk to take, even by Night Fury standards, but she had followed nonetheless.

A cunning dragon for sure, this Night Fury with half a tail rudder. There truly was hope for the species.

Escape was still possible. The flames would die away soon and she could easily outmaneuver him once her Cloak was absolute. Yet she hesitated. Sudden moves might instigate a fight, and she was not supposed to fight the Night Fury. Nor did she wish to.

The Night Fury simply hovered in front of her, his big eyes full of shock and curiosity. Part of her empathized with him, the part of her that remained a wild Night Fury. He had beaten her in fair combat – did he not deserve recognition for the victory?

Her master would not be pleased, but she dropped her Cloak regardless.

* * *

Her head was narrower than his; her reptilian eyes a deeper shade of gold. Her body was slightly smaller in thickness, though her tail was a good two feet longer (and fully intact). Flecks of blue adorned her scaling, sometimes in long stripes but more often in dot form.

Her overall appearance didn't come off as overtly feminine in comparison to Toothless, and might have confounded the ignorant masses as to which was which. But Toothless had known the moment she had dropped her magic. It also helped that she gave off all the right smells.

She gave him a wary eye, flapping in place amidst the fog, steam continuing to waft off her warm scales. She probably hadn't liked being doused with fireballs, but she didn't appear real put out about it.

A female Night Fury. To Toothless, this was a happy dream. This wonderful creature had suddenly popped into his life, real as the day was long. The last Night Fury he'd seen had been his mother, lost to him so many years ago, and the world had seemed a very empty place after that. Part of him, the dragon part, wanted to close the distance and initiate a rub-up, where dragons of opposite genders got acquainted with each other's scent and decided whether or not one was mate-worthy.

The other part, the half that flew with Hiccup, considered sending a fireball into her left wing, crippling her and sending her earthward. The power she had, the ability to completely disappear, was not a Night Fury ability. She had no saddle, no contraptions wrapped around her torso, no false tail or clipped wing. By all rights, she was a free dragon. But the power was unnatural. She had no rider, but that didn't mean she had no master. She had been following him, but to what end?

Cautions aside, he couldn't suppress his excitement at this new development. His more cuddly instincts won out… for now.

Deciding to make the most of it, he growled out a charitable greeting to her. She growled a warning reply. There was no mistaking the vibe in her voice – _come no closer, or we will have problems._

Toothless believed her and kept his distance. He wasn't sure what to do at this point. So little contact with his own kind. He knew the habits of humans more than of his own species.

Either this meeting had already gotten tiresome, or else she was a very distrusting creature, for the female suddenly jerked and went into a dive, heading away from Toothless. Not willing to let this rare meeting end so soon, Toothless sped after her through the swirling mist, hoping that there was still plenty of air between them and the ground.

They found the bottom of the cloud and emerged into the sunlight, safely above the craggy ground. The female took a circuitous route through the low-flying clouds, sometimes speeding off at top speed, other times putting on the air brakes and looking behind her, back at Toothless. If her frequent looks and wary-yet-mischievous eyes were any clue, then she wanted him to follow. Toothless obliged, making sure to keep his distance so as not to invite "problems".

A bad idea, perhaps. She might be feeling retributive. She might be leading him into a trap of her own. Yet Toothless followed, intrigued by the female's behavior and by the female, period.

At first it was like a game of tag, the female as the eternal _it_, Toothless chasing her over and through massed clusters of trees, blowing loose leaves and needles off their branches with their passing or creating mini-funnels of loose earth that trailed them into the air. She would even cheat on occasion and loop around to get on Toothless's tail, though she wouldn't close the distance and she never chased him for long before peeling off and letting Toothless resume his role as chaser.

Other times they'd play chicken with a mountain peak or boulder, seeing who could knock a boulder loose to fall off a cliff or roll down a mountainside. They were equally matched at that game, though Toothless wasn't trying all that hard to beat her. He didn't want to show her up, but he also didn't want to smash into the landscape and lose yet another important part of his body.

Regardless of the game, the female was always the first in turn, the one in control. The game ended when she wanted it to. Toothless did attempt to add a little flavor to the fun by launching a fireball at a human-sized chunk of deadwood. Target-practice. Night Furies were good at two things, after all. She growled a denial and zipped away, initiating a new game of chase. The dismissal of such a primal instinct as fireball throwing struck Toothless as very odd.

It was all very odd. Fun, but odd. Sometimes Toothless felt like she was evaluating him, testing how well he could adjust his heading, how fast he could dive, whether or not his artificial rudder tore under the heaviest winds. Toothless didn't have much experience with mating rituals, but this had stopped feeling like a mating dance some time ago.

Hours later, with the sun announcing that it was about to hang it up for the day, Toothless broke off his twentieth game of chase and landed on a nearby cliff to rest a bit. Getting his bearings, he realized, with a smack of dismay, that he was at least a good hour from the big human place. Even at top speed, he'd be lucky to get back to the hiding spot before sundown. Hiccup would start worrying about him, and Toothless didn't like to make him worry.

The female had stopped her game as well, suspending herself in the air and turning to face him. Toothless could see the look in her golden orbs, a conflicted mix of emotion. Toothless felt the same achy combination. The fun was over. Their lives called to them once more.

The female waggled her head sadly and then the air consumed her like the ocean devours a dropped stone, her body disappearing into nothing.

She was out there, just no longer visible. She was heading back home, wherever that may be. She had just informed him that this was a one-time event.

With no time left to mull over the sorry end to an amazing day, Toothless returned to the sky and set course for the big human place. The turbulence he encountered along the way was no match for the turbulence in his heart. For while he had played with his own kind today, had frolicked and chased as only a Night Fury could, he knew something wasn't right with the female, that something dark had a hold on her. It was that darkness that kept her at wing's length from him. It was that darkness that threatened him.

As much as he wished to chase her again, he feared what their next meeting would bring.

* * *

The sunset was going to suck tonight. A thick tapestry of white wrapped around the horizon, forcing the sun to exit early. But the immediate sky above was pristine and pleasant, so Nestor found little reason to complain.

Facing south, Nestor had found an elevated spot in the park that overlooked the docks and the ocean. Quite a few boats were out having fun in the bay, their happy crews shouting out their frivolity, though several ships were already heading for their moorings or putting down anchor.

Some safety-conscious person had erected a fence along the cliff, a sturdy one made of logs and branches harvested off the park's trees. A fence that you could lean on but also easily bypass if you desired a fall-down. Nestor chose the former option.

The city park had a sundown curfew. No one allowed inside its borders except for special events. Thankfully, Harvest Festival counted as such, though the guards wouldn't let you stay overnight.

Arc had left again, telling Nestor not to worry unless he didn't show up at their rendezvous tomorrow. Arc had another bit of Hyperion business to attend to, though this time Arc actually explained what it was. Nestor thought the "business" sounded fairly deceitful, but he admitted that it was probably the only way they were going to get anything out of Qiao without resorting to "aggressive interrogation."

"Have you been waiting long?"

"Ulp!" Nestor managed not to jump over the fence in surprise, his thumping heart roaring in his ears as he recognized Saga's voice. She was standing next to him now, having once again appeared right out of the blue. She wore a satisfied smile, obviously having had a fun time in the city. Either that, or she enjoyed rattling Nestor's nerves with surprise visits.

"How do you do that?" he said, once his heartbeat was back to normal. "Even when I Shroud, I'm not as quiet as you are."

"Practice." That was all she had to say. Perhaps it was a trade secret.

She then handed Nestor his coin purse, the one he'd lent her for shopping in the city. Nestor gained a new surprise as he took it and felt its heft. "Uh… This is much heavier than this morning." He opened it and expected a stone knick-knack. But there was nothing other than coins inside, standard city currency. Lots of them.

"Is there something I need to know?" he said.

"Only that you can now repay Arc in full, plus interest. And we should steer clear of anyone claiming to belong to the Cutthroat Gang. We did not part on friendly terms."

"And Qiao?"

"She had an errand to run. I did not ask about it."

"You let her go off on her own?"

"At this stage, our affairs are settled. If she does not show tomorrow, the loss is hers."

Nestor thought about asking for elaboration, but decided against it. If Saga had decided to loosen up with Qiao, it was better not to discuss the matter and possibly make her rethink her decision. "Then it's just us two. Any ideas?"

"Standing here is fine with me." Saga turned to the view and propped her elbows on a knobby section of the log-fence. "The city has its perks, but I find it overwhelming at times."

"It is a lot to take in. Good thing they have this park."

Saga nodded but didn't say anything. Nestor decided to give her "the quiet" and go for a little walk around the park. He'd swing back around after an hour. Then the two of them would figure out their evening plans, even though Nestor had no idea what such plans would look like.

He got as far as swiveling to take a step.

"How does it not bother you, Nestor?" she asked, her eyes on the bay as he swiveled again to face her.

"The city?"

"Your life."

"Should my life bother me?"

"You have no family, no clan, no grounding," she clarified. "I know that Arc gives you direction and a vow to live by, but how can that be enough?"

Nestor sensed a heart-to-heart coming on. He rested an arm on the fence and said, "Sometimes it's not. But neither do I consider myself family-less."

"I misspoke. I know you and Arc are close."

"Not just Arc. Our whole group… well, I'm not sure I should count Qiao…"

"Even if it is temporary?" She looked at him, her expression even. "Hiccup and Astrid will go back to Berk eventually. Where will that leave us?"

"Us?" he asked, a note of hope in his voice.

"I am not used to being clan-less, Nestor," she said, ignoring him. "To be part of a clan was to know that many others would support you in times of difficulty. You were never alone, and you would never be alone. Now everything is transitory, uncertain. You are used to this life. I am not."

"It gets easier."

"Does it? The actions I took to save my people I do not regret in the slightest, Nestor. I sleep well knowing that my clan is alive because of me… yet I sometimes feel like I should make amends, that there is some atonement I can pay so that they can take me back. And I _hate_ that I feel that way." Anger crept onto her face as she continued, her hands clenching as she looked away from Nestor again. "They followed the letter of the law, not the letter of justice. They should be begging me to come home, but I feel like the one who should be begging."

She closed her eyes and bowed her head, seeking to maintain her Seer discipline despite the wellspring of emotion inside her. "Warriors should not be so conflicted, should they? I want to move on, but all I can think about is what I have lost." She quieted, keeping her eyes sealed and waiting for the emotional tide within her to roll back. When her eyes opened, she had regained most of her composure, though Nestor easily spotted the wetness glistening in her eyes.

Nestor gave her a few seconds, in case she had more to say. He stared into the park, watching a roaming figure with an elongated torch proceed to ignite a series of standing torches along the paths in and around the park. He already knew what he was going to say, but like Saga the words came with a lot of feeling and he didn't want to gush all over her.

"I have this daydream of mine," he began, "where I'm back in my home village and everyone knows I'm there. It's me, barrier-field and all, but it doesn't matter. My uncle and aunt step forward and they say, 'Welcome home.' Just like that, I'm in. I get my cruddy room down in the cellar and a place at their table. You see, they've heard of me, all my accomplishments. I'm the village hero now. They've seen the error of their ways, and everything's good again.

"It's a daydream, because I know that if I ever go back there, I'll get the same reception as before. There are times I want to go back and try it anyway, though. It was my home for a long time – not the best home, mind you, but home just the same. They called me a devil, they threw mud and stone at me, and they abandoned me when I needed them. Yet if they said those words to me, if they invited me back, I think I'd forgive them."

He finally looked at Saga, and he was grateful for the look of sympathy she gave him. Not wanting to get too maudlin, he shrugged and said, "Pathetic, I know, but I think it's human nature to want back what we've lost… even when we're better off having lost it. What helps me is focusing on what's around me… and who's around me."

He hadn't realized it until now, but one of Saga's hands had crept along the fence during his spiel and was covering his in a supportive gesture. She kept it there even after he'd noticed it. "So what should we focus on tonight?" she asked.

"Hadn't gotten that far," he said, smiling. "I heard there's a inn a short walk from here where they actually clean the dishes and don't serve fish. Really tired of fish."

"I, too, could stand a change in my diet," she said, that satisfied smile of hers making a reappearance. That, all by itself, made Nestor's evening.

* * *

The envelope slipped into the drop box with a quick slither and rustle, which was about as much noise as Qiao made as she darted into the shadows of a nearby alley. Such stealth was probably not needed, not with all the evening festivities about to begin and everyone off at the fun places. The street was empty of eyes and ears. Even the orphans had left the two-story nigh-condemnable orphanage, chaperoned by the well-meaning but overworked family that ran the place.

She made sure the drop box's lock was secure before leaving. Didn't want that much money getting nabbed by others of her ilk. Even other thieves considered stealing from orphans a hangable offense, but there was always an unscrupulous character or two that thought of drop boxes as easy money.

The odor of rotting vegetables and other less-savory substances emitting from the garbage dumps in the alley prompted her to keep moving. After getting some distance between herself and the orphanage, Qiao tucked into a garbage-free alleyway to consider her options. The evening was fast approaching, and she was now a lot poorer than before. What to do, what to do. Find an inn and play darts, maybe? Tease a Cutthroat? Freak out a guard post?

Qiao sighed. This was what she got for ditching the warrior princess. She could be with Saga and Nestor, getting insulted. It was too bad Astrid was occupied with her boyfriend. The girl was growing on her.

Well, so was Saga… in a fungus type of way.

At least she didn't have to put up with Mr. Uptight for much longer. In fact, he'd left her alone the whole day. What a world – she meets one of the few talking dragons in creation and he proves to be a jerk. Why couldn't he be like all the dragons in the legends – kidnapping virgins, burning down settlements, amassing huge amounts of easily stolen treasure? At least he'd be predictable.

"You're going about this all wrong, Qiao," said a familiar jerk-voice from above.

Shaking her head in annoyance, she looked up and saw Arc's distortion resting on the roof of one of the buildings above her. Framed in the fading light of the sky, he was easier to pick out than before. Or else she was getting better at picking out his hazy image. He still snuck up on her way too easily for her liking.

"When you steal, you're supposed to keep it for yourself," explained Arc. "That way, you don't steal as often."

"First off," said Qiao, "the money I gave them was won in a contest, not from thievery. Second, are you really scolding me for giving money to orphans?"

"Considering how furtively you were acting while giving away your money, I'd say that you have more of an issue with your actions than me."

"That? I was just making sure no one connected me to the money. The Lords don't allow donations funded on criminal activities. I do have a reputation, after all."

"I see. If your cause is to help the unfortunate, perhaps you should change your line of work."

Qiao shook her head. "I just don't like seeing kids suffer, okay? That doesn't mean I should make it my life's work. Did you really follow me just to give me another lecture?"

"I came to give you something you'll actually appreciate. Hold still."

Qiao saw an appendage lower down to her level and wrap around her waist. Not wanting to argue (and not sure how to phrase an outcry that wouldn't make things worse), she meekly allowed Arc to hoist her up to the rooftops.

The building's wooden roof had a slant to it that made standing tricky, but Arc kept a claw-hand around her waist to steady her. He de-Shrouded, which made looking at him easier on the eyes but also made the situation more disconcerting. A quick look-around reassured Qiao that the dragon hadn't gone senile, as his bulk was hidden from street viewing. You had to be on the roofs yourself to see him, and all the potential chimney sweeps were partying right now.

"What's so important?" she asked. His answer was in the form of her myssteel quiver, wrapped in a new canvas covering and dangling off Arc's tail. He presented it like a fish on a line, ever so slightly out of reach. She could've jumped for it, but on this type of roof doing so would cause falling and breaking of bones.

Oh, her quiver! That wonderful, wonderful quiver. Rather than stare and drool over it, she gave Arc a dirty glare. "What's the deal now?"

"The deal is that you have fulfilled your end of the deal, Young Qiao," declared Arc. "I'm giving this to you a day early."

"You don't have a boat under you yet."

"Perhaps, but that is no longer your problem." Arc lowered the quiver to her waiting hands. She took it and checked it over to make sure it was real. The hard surface beneath the canvas and the striking metallic smell told her what she needed to know. She reached inside and found her satchel with the other tools of the trade. A quick check of the satchel turned up one omission.

"Still no Trail Stone, right?" she asked. He nodded. Of all her goodies, the Trail Stone was one of the few items she didn't mind leaving behind. It made following marks a lot easier, but the stone's influence inside her head, the feeling that directed her to follow the stone wherever it went, was as comfortable as getting her fingernails bent backward. She had learned to live with the discomfort, as she'd learned to live with many things, but she certainly wouldn't miss it.

"Most folks in your position would've kept all my stuff even after the deal was done," she said, slinging the quiver over her shoulders. "I half-expected you to do the same."

"What would I have done with a quiver, Young Qiao?"

"Good point." She glanced down at the alley below her, where a passing drunkard was proceeding to color the walls with his beverage of choice. "I suppose you're going to lower me down now and that will be that."

Arc gave her an uncertain look. "You don't sound pleased."

She looked back at him with a resigned smile. "Well, all your pals are busy for the night and I don't have any plans and the night is young…"

"What are you asking?"

Her smile became pleading. "This may be the last time I ever get airborne. I know I don't have the right to ask…"

Arc laughed casually. "It is addictive, is it not? And as it turns out, I have no plans either."

Arc Shrouded once more and told her to get on his back. Her reaction was both gleeful and confused. "Ah… we can wait until it's dark, maybe. People will see me flying."

Arc chuckled again. "Yes, intoxicated humans seeing something half-visible fly into the sky, and that assumes they even bother to look up."

She couldn't deny the logic. She also couldn't deny that she didn't want to wait.

Flying truly was an addictive experience, so much so that Arc and Qiao lost track of the time as they soared the night sky, Arc playing the role of the scholarly tour guide and showing off his knowledge of nature and weather and Qiao making the appropriate wisecracks as needed. It would be hours before they were even aware that hours had gone by.

* * *

The overhanging cliff might have spoiled a full viewing of the night sky, but it wasn't the only culprit. Too many clouds roaming around to see more than a few sparkling diamonds in the black at any one time. But as coastal sightseeing went, it was better than Hiccup's last attempt at romantic seaside gestures.

The cliff gave adequate cover to those camped below it, provided you didn't have more than two humans and a Night Fury lounging on the sand. A fire made of driftwood and dragon flame took care of the temperature drop, and the curvature of the cliff side took care of the wind. Throw in Toothless's warm torso and the Gods would have to launch a hurricane at them to ruin the atmosphere.

Hopefully they weren't in a ruin-the-atmosphere mood tonight. A hurricane would be overkill.

"Riki Poka might not have dragons, but the city knows how to have a festival," said Astrid, snuggling into Hiccup as he, in turn, snuggled into Toothless's side.

"Is that your way of saying you had fun?" he asked, his arms wrapped around her waist, his hands touching hers.

"It's my way," she replied. "You?"

"My left foot is not a dancing foot," he admitted, "and I wish I didn't have to keep proving that over and over today, but otherwise, yeah."

Toothless yawned big and wide and lowered his head to the sand, but he wouldn't close his eyes. He kept a vigil on the sky, much like after the last time they had visited the city. Only he wasn't hyped up about it like last time. More like a general wariness, or even longing.

Hiccup had grown concerned when Toothless wasn't at the hiding spot earlier, though the dragon did arrive not long after Hiccup and Astrid, the dragon panting and exhausted as if from a hurried flight. Hiccup attempted to get a general impression of what had happened from Toothless, whether something good or something bad had occurred, but the dragon wasn't in a communicative mood and calmly flew Hiccup and Astrid to the beach. Something must have happened during the day, but whatever it was hadn't upset Toothless.

Hiccup decided not to worry about it too much. Toothless had ways of letting people know if there was a problem. So far, he acted happy to lie on the beach and act like a pillow. But the tired dragon wasn't resting, and that troubled Hiccup.

Their contest outfits had been confiscated by Linebreaker right before sundown, the two of them back in their usual garb. Linebreaker explained that the winners of the contest would be announced at a formal party later that night, but they didn't have to show up for it. Goody, as Hiccup really didn't care. At least Linebreaker was pleased with their participation, and provided that the mood-spoiling hurricane didn't materialize, their boat trip would proceed as planned. Having retrieved what gear they were bringing on the trip, including Hiccup's new rider's armor, they'd be going straight to the boat from the beach.

Hiccup's left foot had caused a stir of its own. No one had a prosthetic like his in the whole city. Sailors and dockworkers and other laborers all had to make do with standard peg legs and hooks. Berk was ahead of the curve in limb technology, and Hiccup got several remarks and requests on how to duplicate it. Hiccup explained that he wasn't in the business of making artificial limbs, but the thought did occur to him that it might not be a bad trade to set up… if he ever decided to move away from Berk.

While he did have fun, today did remind him, constantly, about how much it blew to be missing one foot. The dancing thing, obviously, but even now, with their boots off and the sand running through their toes. All his left foot could do was dig a hole. It felt nothing, and no matter what he did with it, it would always feel nothing.

Vikings weren't supposed to complain about their war wounds. Badges of honor and all that. But sometimes you just couldn't stop thinking about what you've lost.

Then again, with Astrid cuddling against him and his dragon buddy supporting him and the pervasive feeling of warmth and well being surrounding him, it was hard to get too choked up over it.

"It's all a bit much, though," said Astrid. "All the crowds… I felt suffocated at times."

"Same here. Face it, we're a couple of village yokels come to the city."

She laughed, rubbing her unbraided hair against his neck as she did so. Man, it felt good. "Funny thing is, I don't miss Berk right now. Too happy, I guess."

Astrid shifted her weight and wound up pressing against the pocket under his leather vest that held his little bit of wishful thinking. The myssteel ring that he had made for her in the hopes that she would take a chance on him one more time. He kept it on him now to keep it safe, and to wait for the right time to ask.

Right time… what about now? Could it get anymore romantic? Lying on the beach after a successful day of not making a fool of himself in public, Astrid in a great mood, the world in a peaceful state. This kind of thing didn't happen very often, and considering that his plans had a tendency to go sideways more often than not, he might as well use the opportunity when it came by.

He wanted a lot more nights like this. He wanted a lot more nights with Astrid. Why not now?

"Astrid…"

"Qiao said something yesterday that I can't stop thinking about," said Astrid, beating him to the punch. That's what he got for letting the comfortable silence go on too long. No worries, there was plenty of evening left.

"Which was?" he asked.

"She said she hoped we beat the odds. What do you think she meant by that?"

Hiccup mulled it over. "Well…"

"I know we're young and still growing up. People change, goals change."

"We're not _that_ young, and we were friends for years. If my brand of crazy hasn't driven you off by now, it's not going to."

"Maybe she thinks we're not that compatible. We're not opposites, but we're not exactly cut from the same cloth."

"Well, you're a warrior and I'm… not. But that's just our occupations. How boring would it be if we did the same things together all the time?"

"Okay, maybe we're _too_ compatible."

"Are you even listening to yourself now?"

"Okay, that was a stretch." She paused and squeezed his hands tighter. "What if she was talking about one of us… you know…"

"Going bald?"

"Hiccup, please don't make me say it."

Hiccup sighed and hugged her reassuringly. "That's always going to be a possibility, isn't it? Especially since we're Vikings and _really especially_ with the company we like to keep. But let's face it. Can we possibly be facing anything worse than what we've already taken on?'

Astrid groaned at his rhetorical question. "Why did you say that? You just dared the Gods to prove you wrong."

"All I'm saying is that Qiao is a party pooper and you're worrying too much… like always. Can we switch topics?"

Astrid must have agreed, as she sighed and relaxed into him once more. "Okay, no more worrying. No more heavy stuff. For the rest of tonight, I'll keep it to sweetness and light. Hopefully I won't gag."

"That's my girl," he said, and they slipped back into comfortable silence, letting the crashing surf and howling wind carry on the conversation for them.

It took Hiccup a few moments to realize that his opportunity had just choked to death on him. He could still propose, and she would probably still say yes, but it felt like too heavy a thing to do after that discussion. Right here, right now, they were good. The Gods were behaving themselves, Toothless was snoring finally, and the mood-ruining hurricane was nowhere near the coast.

They had many days ahead of them. Another moment would come along eventually, a more fitting moment. There was no reason to rush.

Even if he hadn't been so contented at the time and looking away from the oceanic horizon, even if the clouds had all vanished in a rare instance of spontaneous reality erasure, he likely would have missed the passage of a large seagoing vessel far out in the water, moving dark and silently in an eastern direction, its crew preparing for its own brand of festivities come the morning.


	12. Good Things Don't Last

**Chapter Eleven: Good Things Don't Last**

Outcast Bay: where the dreary detritus of Riki Poka accumulated.

Compared to Riki Poka's waterside, Outcast Bay was a tenth of the size and far less hospitable to boats, with only a narrow section of water truly free of obstructions. The rocky cliffs that ringed it protected the tiny settlement from both prying eyes and harsh weather, though the things that went on in Outcast Bay were far from confidential. The community of house-sized tents, dilapidated buildings, and myriad junk piles survived not due to any skill on the part of the residents in hiding their criminal leanings, but the general apathy of the Lords of Riki Poka.

Someplace like Outcast Bay always crops up near cities. A place for those who think law and order is overrated. A place where might-makes-right is the only law anyone respects. Even in a city as open as Riki Poka, there are those citizens who want things more opener. There were limits – piracy and slavery were no-nos, as the Lords forbid such practices anywhere near their coastal waters. While some of the residents of Outcast Bay were pirates by nature, they were not practicing pirates due to circumstance.

Yet Outcast Bay was not the cesspool of chaos and thugdom one might imagine, certainly not what the Alchemist imagined. She'd seen many such places before, often with twice the escort in tow. This was the cleanest, most hospitable cesspool she'd deigned to visit. No bodies left out to rot or epithets spilling out of every mouth.

As her landing boat docked against a garbage-strewn pier, Norom, Cragfist, and the other guards fanned out into the gathered crowd, insisting that the path into the settlement be obstruction-free. While a few drunkards had to be shoved or tossed aside, the more clear-minded residents obeyed without complaint. They had all heard the tales of the Alchemist – many of their friends had joined her ranks. The rabble spat at any Lord or noble within spitting distance, but they differed to her presence with majestic respect, awaiting her arrival with the same reverence children gave their present-bequeathing grandparents.

Dozens of the louts gathered in front of a lopsided stage held together by spit and willpower. The best they could do considering the raw materials available. Norom did the dutiful task of walking the stage and testing its give… which wasn't much as Norom's large frame caused two of its supports to buckle and snap. With a protesting groan of finality, the stage collapsed into kindling, Norom wedged in right in the middle.

The louts had the good sense not to laugh, going as far as to cold cock a fellow lout who dared snicker.

Three soldiers dug out a very cross Norom, the large man unhurt as he joined the Alchemist on the pebble-strewn path near the now-deceased stage. "I think we'll do the presentation here," she said, giving him a smile that did nothing to remove his frown.

"Should we move out?" asked Cragfist, clearly itching for action. She almost regretted having giving him false hope. The likelihood of any trouble here at the settlement was minute. The chances of trouble other places, though, was all but certain.

She nodded. Norom, Cragfist, and the rest moved off to their designated checkpoints, leaving a soldier quartet to flank her. Overkill, perhaps, but it paid not to trust the rabble too far with matters of security.

One of the fidgety louts came forward, an overdressed man with puffy sleeves and an insanely oversized hat that drooped in the back. He bowed politely to the Alchemist and said, "Madam, we are honored to receive you. I am Theo the Third, representative of the Cutthroats from Riki Poka."

The snickers from behind him implied that there was not a vast quantity of respect in Theo's coffers. But he did have the bravado to speak to her. She nodded an acknowledgement. "Do you speak for Outcast Bay?"

"I speak only for my interests. But I do apologize for the state of your presentation."

"Did you build the stage?"

Theo looked aghast at the idea of manual labor. "Certainly not."

"Then don't apologize. Are there other emissaries from Riki Poka?"

"To my knowledge, the Slipknots, the Terrible Thirty-Sevens, and the Besiegers have representatives present." Theo smiled. "None of them are brave enough to approach you."

"You can cut the sweet talk, Theo the Third," she said. "Wait until the demonstration is done, then we can talk about special discounts for your gang."

Down the pathway to her boat, a pair of green-uniformed soldiers were hoisting a barrel-sized object between them. The Alchemist delighted in all the baffled expressions from the louts. The big deal they had gathered to see resembled a quartz-crystal starfish with all five arms stretching up to the sun, the ends sharp and serrated. It was housed in a steel base with flexible hinges so it could be rotated and spun, repositioned on the ground as needed. Bad sculpture was what it was, at least to the ignorant eye.

She faced Theo again and said, "Tell your friends, if you can call them that, that we need a few minutes to set up. This is a delicate process and trust me when I say that you do not want us to miscalculate here."

While it wasn't the outcome Theo wanted, he graciously took his leave and went to spread the word. With a little time on her hands, the Alchemist brought her left arm up to her face. The arm guard she wore had four inlaid gems resting among the leather and myssteel. It was too ornate for any practical warrior, but it wasn't merely a showpiece, either.

The gems were her creation. They might have certain physical characteristics to emeralds, jade, and rubies, but they had not come from the earth as is. They also had bonus features to them, and as she placed the four fingers of her right hand on the gems, she felt the bonus right away.

Multitasking had always been one of her strengths, which was why she could absorb the visual feedback from the four different viewpoints cluttering up her mind's eye without going schizophrenic. She did have to close her eyes, or else she'd be seeing quintuple right now. Each gem was connected to a sister gem attached to a belt or embedded in a special place on its wearer. Each gem was like a free eyeball, seeing what its host saw. Each scene, each conduit of information, occupied a different part of her mind, and she had learned how to navigate between the different flows, how to assemble the divergent information streams into a singular coherent picture.

The gems also absorbed environmental sound as well, but she could only listen to one gem at a time. Otherwise it was like listening to Norom sing – all noise, no sense.

The others were in position now, having found their targets. They only needed her go-ahead. She could convey that go-ahead directly into their minds. Yet another perk of the gem technology. Only one-way communication was allowed – otherwise, the clutter of thoughts surging into her mind would give her multiple personalities.

She thought about waiting until the demonstration had started, so that her lieutenants had plenty of cover. But that assumed their missions would go off without incident, and that was a poor assumption to make, especially when facing opponents of serious consideration. If there were too many delays, they might arrive back at the Zenith just as an armada from Riki Poka came a-calling. And after today's demonstration, there was no way the Lords of Riki Poka wouldn't send a response. The louts in Outcast Bay already knew they had to clear out, had packed their stuff in preparation. They'd lose their home for a time, but they all knew it would be worth it.

_Proceed,_ she mentally ordered, breaking off contact after sending the command.

She would have wished them all luck, but she didn't need to. Luck was something you needed only when there was a possibility that you could lose.

* * *

"This figures," said Nestor, crinkling his face in irritation. "This really figures."

On the inside, Saga was chuckling at Nestor's bemused disposition. Outside, her Seer persona was locked in place. The time for professionalism was upon them. The time for pleasantries was over, as they were about to walk into a camp full of criminals.

Or they would be, when the others actually showed up.

The three of them, Captain Linebreaker being the patient third party on the scene, stood on the twisting and curving dirt trail leading to Outcast Bay. The morning dew lingered on the lush and lanky grass hemming in the trail, the sun poking a quarter of itself over the horizon. Lovely view, though it didn't change the fact that the rest of their party had not shown up.

"The one time, in weeks, that we actually need to be somewhere," said Nestor sourly, "and not even Arc. Not… even… Arc."

"The sun has not cleared the horizon," said Saga. "No one is technically late." She could afford to be lax today. While punctuality remained a personal standard, there was no life-and-death dilemma attached to timeliness today.

"Perhaps they are enjoying the sunrise instead of fretting over it," said Linebreaker, a knapsack at his feet and a black handkerchief tied around his bald head. "Your group earned my services. I don't renege."

"Not the point," said Nestor. "We spent the better part of a week on this. The one thing we're supposed to take seriously." He shook his head. "Not even Arc, and he's _always_ punctual."

"Most of Riki Poka is suffering the aftereffects of too much partying," said Saga. "Perhaps our comrades are doing the same."

"Why are you so calm about this?" Nestor asked her.

"Because I had a pleasant evening and I do not wish to taint the memory with unneeded anxiety." Her words took a bit of the bluster out of Nestor. Truly, the night had been enjoyable. A quiet dinner at an inn, long conversations about personal history and their respective adventures, and a restful slumber on a grassy knoll not far from their current location (the rooms at the inn, as all inns in Riki Poka had been, was booked solid). For the first time since beginning this new life of hers, she had forgotten about her old one… at least for a few hours.

"Could've done without sleeping on that bed of tree roots," said Nestor, who then smiled and added, "but, ah yeah, pleasant evening."

"If there was trouble, I would know it, " she added in an attempt to reassure him. She immediately regretted saying it as Nestor's brow creased with doubt. He knew she hadn't been having any visions lately, so she couldn't make such bold assertions. Still, she had to believe that whatever force powered her foresight hadn't entirely forsaken her, that it was a lack of danger that dried up her vision well and nothing more.

Nestor clearly didn't believe it. After her fainting spell from two nights ago, Saga wasn't sure she believed it either. But until she learned otherwise, she was still the Seer and she would act accordingly.

Linebreaker laughed as if he'd just come up with a woefully obvious idea. "Rather than wait here and sulk about tardy friends, I can prep my boat for travel. Who wishes to join me?"

"I will stay and await our comrades," said Saga, gesturing to Nestor to go with the captain.

"Hey, why don't I go along and distract myself from my anxieties?" Nestor commented dryly.

Linebreaker gave Saga directions to his boat, which was docked on the east-most tip of the bay. He reassured her that none of the residents would try to harm her, as he had clout in Outcast Bay and would spread the word about his arriving guests. Saga reassured the captain that none of them _would_ hurt her, regardless.

After watching Nestor and Linebreaker disappear down the winding trail, Saga found herself alone again, her own anxious thoughts trying to intrude on her peace of mind. Given that her only other option was to stare off in random directions, waiting for a pair of late dragons to show up, it couldn't hurt to try meditating once more.

She sat down in the middle of the trail, cross-legged, and fell into a reliable mental mantra that quickly emptied her mind of wayward thoughts and concerns. A place of blackness, not the frightening kind but the vacant variety. The blank state, where anything that came to her did not _come_ from her.

Time became a nebulous concept in the blank state. She often woke up from the blank state with only minutes having passed or half the day already eaten by the God of Time. Lately, the only issue concerning time was the waste of it, as she had done this two-dozen consecutive times and not a single portent had been whispered to her. She didn't expect this time to be any…

_Qiao, aim for the… A hideous green… thundered into Nestor, a second beefy hand grabbing him and… _

The Gods must have been making up for lost time, because the sudden deluge of visions was more intense than any vision prior, as was the searing pain. She rocked backward, flopping entirely to the ground as her hands seized her head around the ears. Assailed by the unrelenting flow of portent, her skull blazed under the strain, her mouth open but nothing coming out, not even a scream.

She did as she always did – she let the power run through her, flowing with the head-ripping pain. She fished in the powerful current for anything that mattered, taking images that seemed important at the time, tucking them away for when the river in her mind calmed once more.

At the point where she thought her skull might crack asunder, the river suddenly drained away, the visions ceasing. She opened her eyes and sat up, every muscle in her face sore and strained. It took another precious minute to shake off the soreness, and then she stood and ran, her lithe form flying down the earthen trail in the direction of Outcast Bay, forcing her body to ignore the lingering discomfort or the panic from seeing the sun free of the horizon.

A half-hour had gone by. Too long.

She didn't know why or how, but this vision was unprecedented. Not one, but _three _visions squished together like a poorly made sandwich. Images fighting and competing for attentions. Violent images, disturbing images. All about her friends in dire trouble.

All of them. Right now.

* * *

Hiccup's built-in alarm went off just as the sun snuck a peek and hit him in the face with a tiny sunbeam. He yawned, scratched his head, and quickly noticed that Astrid's body heat was absent, replaced by the sounds of clicking and clinking from nearby.

A bigger yawn greeted him as Hiccup opened his eyes. Toothless was stirring as well, staring at him and smiling expectantly. _Morning flight?_ said the stare. Of course. They did have a boat to catch today.

Astrid was up and packing their gear into their travel baskets, attaching them to Toothless's saddle rig. Hiccup must have been pretty deeply sleeping, because he hadn't heard her bustling about or felt her get up.

"Right on time, sleepy heads." She smiled as she threw him his boot and finished securing the second basket. "Didn't want to break out the feather."

"And I thank you for that." Hiccup stretched as he stood up and donned his boot. His clothes were a tad damp from morning dew, but otherwise no complaints. A rumbling tummy, on the other hand, needed filling… by which he meant Toothless. The dragon's stomach could wake the dead.

"Wait a sec, pal," said Hiccup. "Astrid got neat with the provisions… Pal?"

Usually a hungry dragon could be relied on to pay attention when one spoke of feedings. But Toothless had his ears perked and twisted towards the surf. Then the dragon's entire head swiveled to match his ears, the dragon's eyes narrowing.

Hiccup glanced at the beach, seeing only dry sand, wet sand, and water with a fair amount of sand in it. Clear sky, a few clouds, and a flock of seagulls fishing out at sea. The tide was in and the surf was closer, but unless the seagulls decided to poo-poo bomb them, nothing came off as threat worthy.

Toothless kept staring, on alert but not growling. Something had Toothless on edge. A few months ago, Hiccup might have considered it a case of Night Fury super-sensitivity, the dragon feeling protective and on his guard. These days, not seeing the danger was definitely not the same as no danger present.

"Bud, what is it?" Toothless immediately spelled out what the problem was, at least in Hiccup's fantasy world. In reality, he continued to stare.

"What's going on?" asked Astrid, walking to Hiccup's side and joining in the onlooking.

"Good question." Hiccup scanned the water for anything out of the ordinary. Waves and sea foam. Lots of waves and sea foam.

"It's not another pod of Orcas, is it? He always gets agitated around them."

Twenty feet away from them, where the sand grew moist and compact, an imprint formed in the sand. An instantaneous imprint. One second, sand, the next, a suspiciously familiar-looking print that was clearly animal in origin. A wide imprint. A clawed imprint.

The next one formed a foot closer.

Having dealt with nigh-invisible characters before, Hiccup reached a disturbing conclusion at the same time Toothless began to growl at whatever was coming toward them. His growl must have worked because the new imprints formed sideways instead of forward, as if the intruder was now moving laterally.

Hiccup looked at Astrid and was about to warn her when he saw the myssteel axe in her hands, held at the ready. She'd learned to trust Toothless's instincts as much as Hiccup.

Toothless moved away from Hiccup and Astrid, advancing at the phantom imprint maker and growling in a very different tone than before. A three-count set of short growls followed by a long growl, repeated over and over. Hiccup had never heard such sophisticated sounds from Toothless. Usually he voiced his displeasure and everyone got the message. Here, it was like he was trying to get the phantom's attention… or talk with it.

"Hiccup?" asked an anxious Astrid.

"Let's wait and see," he cautioned. What else could they do?

The answer bowled them over when the phantom abruptly ceased being a phantom, its body filling the holes in the sand as it slipped into visibility. Hiccup backed up in shock and fell over a mischievous rock, tumbling him fanny-first into the sand. Astrid had a similar reaction, but no mischievous rocks got her.

Toothless stood between them and the brand-new Night Fury, his face one of caution and determination. This new dragon gave all of his…her… its attention to Toothless, its scaly face and golden eyes showing no fear. The surf wrapped around its legs as it stood there, quietly staring at Toothless with its tail twitching and its wings spread like it might take off any second.

"I don't… I… Wow!" he said as Astrid helped him up. "I mean… another Night Fury!"

"It's… amazing," said Astrid, her axe drooping as she marveled at this unexpected visitor. "She's beautiful."

"She?" said Hiccup.

"Yeah, 'she,'" said Astrid. "Don't you think she has a female look to her?"

Now that the shock had faded, Hiccup had to admit that the new Night Fury had a sleeker look and a slight color variation that felt more… feminine. That didn't mean she _was_ female, but he'd go with it for now. There was only one way to be sure… and he absolutely wasn't going to do _that_.

Now that the shock and amazement was done, other nibbling questions bit at him. Like the fact that she had been invisible – utterly invisible, not just Shrouded. It was possible that only female Night Furies had that talent, but his skeptical, intuitive mind didn't think so. If magic-heavy Hyperions couldn't disappear completely, how could a wild Night Fury do so?

Also, the standoff between Toothless and the female made him uneasy. There was a real sense of familiarity here, like Toothless had run into this Night Fury before. The furtive stares she'd snap off at Hiccup and Astrid – it felt like they were being scrutinized.

It should have been a wonderful moment. Hiccup fantasized about it when he wasn't fantasizing about new inventions or mooning over Astrid. Another Night Fury, another of Toothless's kind, has been found. Better yet, a female. Toothless wouldn't be the lone dragon any longer, and the skies above Berk might yet be full of little Night Furies chasing each other and lighting up the sky with blue flame.

But there was no wonder here. Astrid could sense it too, her smile fading, her axe rising back to readiness. The tension between the dragons was palpable, unmistakable. The female was not here to make friends.

Something was very wrong.

* * *

She had this one last time to stand before the male Night Fury, as close to him as she could ever be allowed.

Her master would not be pleased, but she wasn't disobeying an order. Nor would she when the order came down. She felt the longing from the male, felt the stirrings of instinct and affection for her rare kind that had all but disappeared from existence. She wanted to recapture it, treasure it for the scant period they could be at peace with one another.

The male was baffled by her behavior. He did not understand her actions, her attitude. But he would. Very quickly, he would.

She let out a low call of sorrow and apology, which confused the male even further. What did she have to apologize for, after all?

He would understand. Loyalty was everything to a Night Fury, and she owed her master all she had.

_Proceed._

The order entered her mind like a whisper in the dark. No time left to dwell on her old life. No time at all. She needed all her engineered power to do what had to come next. She had dropped her Cloak, but it still needed more power.

So she dropped her False Face.

* * *

Hiccup had his hunch confirmed right about the time the female Night Fury's right eye went red.

Not bloodshot. Red – an artificial pupil-free red. Like someone had popped her eye out when no one was looking and replaced it with a burning coal. An inner illumination fed the angry light coming from the socket, an icy source that chilled you with its stare.

Toothless recoiled from the female, arching his back and growling a far less civil warning. The female didn't react, unless determined indifference counted. She merely squared herself and extended her wings so that they could get a good view of the unfolding horror, because it got worse from there.

Like an unseen knife peeling away the skin of an apple, the female's exterior dissolved inch-by-inch, starting from her eye and working rearward. Scales became metallic, smooth and featureless. Half her face disappeared behind the sky-blue metal, followed by most of her neck and one of her ears. The metal corruption continued across her torso, down to her forelegs and crisscrossing over her back. Claws went from bone to steel, jagged and wicked. The base of her wings began to resemble mechanical joints, the metal flowing into the fabric-like material of her wingspan, becoming translucent. Her tail remained mostly flesh and blood except for the band of metal that ran along its length, a series of multicolored gems or stones dotting it.

The false layer gone, the female stood defiantly, unashamed of her unnatural state. Over half of her body had transformed right before them. She retained the same basic shape as before, the same angular curves and features, and the metal moved with her body as fluidly as muscle and sinew, but the organic quality of the metal only added to the aura of menace permeating the air around the female. She opened her mouth to display a set of natural teeth, but the garbled cry that came out was alien, a fabrication of a Night Fury's voice that couldn't match the tonal requirements.

Toothless's jaw dropped from sheer shock. Hiccup imagined his own jaw wasn't much better. Astrid kept her jaw in place, but her shock led her to back up over the same rock that got Hiccup, tripping her up as her axe plopped to the sand. Hiccup ungallantly forgot to help her up. Too busy staring at the metal Night Fury.

Content with the terror her transformation had engendered, Metal Fury (the best nickname Hiccup could come up with given how dazed he felt at the time) bent her knees, elongated her wings to their full spread, and shot into the air with a gust and a stinging spray of sand. Outward appearances aside, she still flew like a Night Fury.

Hiccup watched as Metal Fury climbed straight up for a few seconds and did a tight turn and dive that sent her racing straight back at them. A hideous green glow began to form in front of her, pulsing like a candle in an intermittent breeze. Coming from the dragon or ahead of her – Hiccup wasn't sure.

She neared their beach and now Hiccup could see that the rancid glow was separate from the dragon, forming a foot ahead of her head. Her mouth opened and Hiccup's instincts kicked in. After hundreds of hours devoted to studying his dragon friend, Hiccup knew how to read a Night Fury's intentions. He ran at Astrid, who had almost gotten back on her feet, and threw the two of them to the sand. Astrid's protest died in her mouth as the glow from the Metal Fury became a long beam of putrid light, instantaneously hitting the beach with a frying, cracking roar. Wider than the Fury's head, the beam divided the beach in two halves, separating Toothless from the others, Toothless growling in fear as sand became dust plumes that fountained upwards. Metal Fury strafed on by, the beam moving from the beach to the cliff, cutting a line several feet deep, first in the dirt, then in the rocks of the cliff face. Rock proved just as vulnerable to the death ray (again, best name Hiccup had on him at the time), the beam carving the cliff as easily as an axe carves a Snoggletog roast. Boulders loosened by the destruction fell from their homes and pounded the sand below, though none threatened the horrified campers below.

The beam cut out as Metal Fury flew past the cliff, leaving a brutally disfigured beach marred by a great furrow coated with sand blackened and hardened into a crust-like substance.

Toothless cried out to Hiccup and Astrid, still lying on the ground with Hiccup futilely shielding Astrid. Futilely - Hiccup was now well aware that his heroic gesture would've done nothing if the beam had hit them straight on.

The dragon's cry helped make the third shock of the morning shorter than the first two, Hiccup helping Astrid off the ground and then mounting Toothless. The three of them were airborne seconds later, Hiccup letting Toothless do the flying while he steadied his nerves and breathed deeply. The death grip Astrid had on his shoulders implied that Astrid was as rattled as he was.

"I'm getting really tired of these kinds of surprises," she commented, her voice an octave higher than normal. "Hiccup, what _was_ that?"

"A really unhappy dragon?" he replied. "Seriously, why would you think I'd know anything?"

"Okay, then what are we doing?"

Hiccup had no idea. Right now, he was going with letting Toothless make the decisions, which was to go after the Metal Fury if their heading was any clue. Metal Fury was easy to pick out in the sunshine, her metal body glinting all over with harsh refractions. She was a quarter of a mile ahead of them and maintaining speed and distance. No fancy maneuvers yet, though that could change in a second.

The wavy coastline stretched on for miles unending as Toothless pursued the Metal Fury. Toothless tried pouring on the speed, Hiccup and Astrid hunching over to aid in the aerodynamics, but the distance between them never shrunk nor enlarged. Metal Fury made no attempt to shake them off. She seemed content with things as they were.

None of it made sense. First the metal dragon revels itself, almost in a taunting way, then it attacks in a boastful show of power… and now it was fleeing. But if it actually was fleeing, why not disappear like before? Even if it couldn't for some mystical reason, why the easy flying?

Hiccup had a feeling they were being played with here, a notion made worse by the realization that they were flying in the opposite direction of their morning destination.

* * *

Qiao awoke hugging herself and wondering which idiot left the windows wide open all night in the inn. Then last night came back to her – no inn. They didn't make it back to the city at all, which explained the bed of moss underneath her. It might beat out no bed at all, but you couldn't use moss as a blanket.

Surprise, surprise, another clearing in the forest. Secretive dragon, Mr. Uptight. Rooftops too good for him?

But as Qiao swept the sleep from her eyes she realized how little this clearing had in common with other clearings. She stood up and marveled at the arrangement of flowers scattered about the clearing, competing clusters of roses and lilies, creeping vines and rosemary bushes. Smatterings of reaching sunflowers littered the center of the clearing, surrounded by groupings of irises and daffodils. Even into the fall, some flowers were still in bloom, though wilted and crinkled, while others had given up for the year. Here and there dandelions and wilder flowers intruded, muscling in on the prettier residents, but even the weedy plants had a cultivated look to them, their presence tolerated.

Qiao had stolen from more than a few noble homes with manicured gardens, so she knew a gardener's grove when she saw one. Unlike the ordered and controlled gardens of those places, this one was chaotic. The flowers mingled and overran their boundaries, sometimes creating a new type of harmony and sometimes clashing and chocking off the competition. Here and there were soil patches showing signs of distress, its former occupants uprooted. Both nectar and rot found her nose, the combination not off-putting but not real attractive. At least nothing smelled dead.

A wild garden in the middle of a forest. Qiao shrugged away her surprise. Why not?

"Was the moss to your liking?"

Qiao glanced over her shoulder and found Arc hunched over a rose bush that had gotten into a grudge match with a wild rosemary bush. His agile claws carefully snipped at ensnarled branches. "It was the best thing I could come up with at short notice."

"It's moss," said Qiao, standing up. "It works. Uh… When did I…?"

"Some time after midnight. You were still on my back when I heard you snore. Too many late nights catch up with you eventually."

Embarrassing. Falling asleep on the back of a dragon? Mr. Uptight, especially? If word of that got around, her reputation would never recover. Strangely, she didn't feel put out about it. Falling asleep in front of strange men was a bad idea. Falling asleep in front of strange dragons… well, if they weren't going to eat you, it was probably okay.

Qiao walked over to Arc, taking care not to step on the lilies in her way. "Where are we?"

"Approximately fifty miles north of Riki Poka. An easy flight to Outcast Bay. We'll leave once I sort out these two warring shrubberies here."

"How did you find this garden?" she asked.

"I didn't _find_ it," he clarified, removing another branch from off the rosemary bush. "Though, technically, I did find the clearing four centuries ago, back when it was nothing but dead grass and burnt stumps. A forest fire got to it."

Qiao's eyes widened. "This is _your_ garden?"

Arc stopped his pruning and turned his reptilian head to face her. "Why is that so shocking?"

"Why is that…? You're a _dragon_."

Arc rolled his eyes. "Ah, and that automatically prevents me from gardening, correct?"

"I… uh… well, okay, you got me. I suppose if any dragon can have a green claw, it's a Hyperion. But… why?"

"We all have our hobbies." Arc went back to his upkeeping, this time cutting the rose bush down to size.

"That's hardly an explanation."

"I pick up seeds and plants from various places and bring them here. When I have time and opportunity, I come back to work the earth. I find it therapeutic."

"Is that why it's so random?" asked Qiao. "Because you can't be here all the time to take care of it?"

"It's random by design," said Arc. "I don't have the luxury to watch over it, so I give the plants room to grow and develop as they see fit. For the most part, they do fine on their own. Plants have existed without help for far longer than humans and dragons have walked the earth."

"So you let things just… be? Free range gardening?"

"Not entirely. Sometimes a plant gets too aggressive and needs to be pulled. Some flowers can't live peacefully with other flowers, no matter how much room and water you give them. But I don't see myself as a gardener, merely a protector. The flowers will sort themselves out – that's the way of flowers. My job is to keep the garden in one piece."

Qiao found a particularly pristine lily at her feet and stooped to pluck it, only to remember whose garden this was just before the plucking. She immediately pulled her hand away. "It's been like this for four centuries?"

Arc finished his efforts with the rose bush, sweeping the cuttings into a nearby refuse pile full of yanked weeds and dead foliage. "Not like this. Over time various plants come and go. There was one decade where I couldn't get anything but crabgrass to flourish. It took _a lot_ of fertilizer to turn that around. Even then, I found the crabgrass pleasing in its own way. I learned to adapt, to appreciate each iteration of the garden for what it was."

"What happens when you're gone? Who tends to the garden after that?"

"If I'm lucky, the next Hyperion after me will take up that task. Otherwise, the garden won't have a protector and nature will take its course." Arc stopped piling up debris and gave Qiao his full attention again. "That's what happens with gardens. They only stay gardens as long as someone steps up and takes responsibility."

Qiao turned her back on Arc and found herself staring at the sunflowers, their tall countenance marred by the drooping of their pedals. Something so beautiful… and already it was fading away. She sighed heavily. "I don't know how you do it, Mr. Uptight. Don't you get tired of it? Everything changing all the time? The good stuff never lasting?"

A pause, as if the dragon was thinking out his answer, then, "Sometimes. I confess that the long years can take their toll. For a time, I lost sight of what it meant to be a Hyperion. Anger and loneliness took hold inside of me. I would come back here year after year and find no solace. I'd prune and till and pluck and plant, but it felt like a pointless four century-old exercise. I still did it because… it was what I was supposed to do. But I no longer had any love for it. My bitterness almost destroyed me, both inside and out."

Qiao cautiously looked over her shoulder at Arc. Seeing those non-judging dragon eyes and hearing his unguarded story – it disarmed her. "How did you bounce back?"

Arc smiled, the sincerity of his expression overcoming his unavoidably toothy visage. "A young man ran into me not so long ago. The rest is history."

"Nestor," she stated, smiling back. "Is there a lesson hidden in this story?"

"It's my life, Young Qiao," said Arc. "If you take a lesson from it, so be it."

She knew now why she had fallen asleep on Arc's back. Fatigue, yes, but there was more. All the people she knew were thieves and fencers and smugglers and killers, people who used her as needed and threw her away afterwards. Ol' Bones had been her closest friend up to now, but she knew better than to think he'd side with her over saving his business. In an underworld where everyone was in it for themselves, reliance was a liability.

But Arc – a dragon, of all things – was different. All these characters were different. For all his stuffy moral tut-tutting, Arc actually cared what happened to others. The whole group cared, in fact. Even Saga, even if her idea of caring involved hacking and slashing more than cheerful banter.

Safe. Qiao felt safer with Saga's judgmental nature than with any friendly thief. She felt safer flying on Arc's back than in the gilded, heavily-armed carriages of any gang leader or crime lord. She felt safe with this crew, all of them.

But good things don't last, do they?

Gathering up some of her old feisty-thief persona, Qiao wordlessly turned from Arc and went to get her gear. Might as well go with Mr. Uptight to say her goodbyes. She wouldn't be seeing this lot again after…

Bent over and distracted, she did notice the shadow that had moved over her while she affixed her special quiver to her back, but not soon enough to think much of it. A cloud moving past the sun, most likely.

Then she was screaming as a scaly hand yanked her off her feet and dragged her backwards, her hands almost losing their grip on her bow. The irate question on her mind was answered as a huge three-pronged claw snapped to a halt ahead of her, the net of thick rope suspended beneath it slamming into the moss bed with a bang. The net scooped at the ground, but having missed its target, it retracted with a violent lifting motion, tearing away shredded moss from the earth.

Qiao gaped at the cold stone contraption on a steel chain as it retracted into the sky. Following the chain to its source, Qiao let out a groan as she recognized the floating machine above her. She had hoped to never see it again. No such luck.

The best way to describe the Hunter Platform was to think of a three-legged stool floating in the air, only the seat was wide enough to fit a sperm whale's sizeable posterior. The lavender crystallized rock that composed it had no reflection or shine, even though you'd think it would. The three "legs" of the platform jointed in the middle. Despite being composed of stone, the joints could bend when the platform landed, allowing the riders on top to disembark. On the underside of the platform was a new addition from the last time Qiao had seen it, a gearbox made of clear minerals and silvery metal. The chain and the hook-based net dangled from it like a grossly under-limbed spider trailing a detached web. The platform hung close to eighty feet in the air, lingering as soundlessly as a raptor scouted the air, scanning the ground for its breakfast.

In this case, Qiao was the breakfast.

She didn't recognize the quintet of riders occupying the "seat" part of the platform, looking down at her from behind a solidly built guardrail. Check that. She didn't _know_ any of them, but she did remember the two-swords guy and the woman with the chain wrapped around her arm from the Dancing Clam. She had hoped she had been wrong about that incident, that it was just a coincidence that Saga's attacker had Flash Powder and myssteel weapons in his possession. After all, Hiccup, Astrid, and Saga had some of the same gear. No sense jumping to conclusions, right?

Yeah, right.

"Friends of yours?" muttered Arc, standing on his hind legs with his left arm holding Qiao to his chest and his right arm extended threateningly at the battle platform. A crackle of electricity darted between his claws.

"Friends is not the right word," said Qiao. "But I know who they work for."

"Qiao, formerly of the Alchemist?" called down the swordsman from the guardrail. "I am Kong, currently of the Alchemist. I have come to bring you back to her."

"_Her_? The plot thickens," said Arc to Qiao, putting her down so he could ready his left hand for action. "Perhaps we should invite them down for a discussion."

"Let me handle this my way, okay?" pleaded Qiao. "I promise I'll clue you in afterwards. I owe you that much for saving my neck just now." Arc didn't protest, though his frown implied that he wouldn't be granting her much leeway before he did things his way.

Qiao cleared her throat and stretched her head back, shielding her eyes from the sun with her free hand. "Kong? Is that your name? Look, I had an understanding with the Alchemist. She does her thing, I do mine."

"We have come to a new understanding," said Kong. "She needs you to return."

"If it's about the goods I took when I left, I can repay her…"

"YOU!" Kong's severity of tone left no misinterpretation. "She needs _you_. This is not a negotiation."

"That's a shame, because she can't have me!" Qiao's free hand went from shielding her eyes to grabbing an arrow. In one deft move, she had a myssteel-coated arrow sighted and pointed upwards. The arrow streaked out, the arrowhead flashing sunlight as it hit the stone gearbox right at the base of the chain. The loose chain clattered in protest as gravity pulled the severed appendage off its contraption, the claw falling to the ground with a heavy thump, plowing moss and lilies into the earth with it.

The platform immediately went into a controlled drop, one of the soldiers on top taking aim with a crossbow over the side. He started a quick jittery dance when Arc's lightning bolt found him, the soldier dropping his weapon and draping his body over the rail. Kong kept him from falling over outright. He did not look amused.

"So much for discussion," said Arc, opening fire on the platform itself. The full-powered electrical blast that surged into the flying machine took a chunk out of its structure, but mostly dissipated against the insulating minerals. Two more blasts had similar results, ruining the finely sculpted finished but barely slowing its descent.

Before the platform landed, someone leapt from the top. It was hard to tell who because the humanoid figure floating featherlike down alongside the platform was covered in hovering black rocks that crackled with a greenish sparkle, little jets of energy connecting the rocks into a human-shaped figure twice the size of your average man. Gaps between the rocks gave the figure a patchwork appearance, as if someone had broken an obsidian-colored statue and tried to reassemble it without all the pieces. It scoffed at freefall and landed ahead of the platform, the air between the rocks functioning as nonexistent elbows, knees, and other joints in the bedrock body.

The man inside floated in the middle of the creation, suspended by the same green energy that traveled along the rock figure's length, most of it coming from a large multifaceted gem built into a leather harness strapped to his chest. Qiao could see the soldier move his right hand, opening and closing his fist. The stone suit's right hand mimicked it. Direct control.

Qiao grimaced as she recognized the weapon. A Berserker. It had only been a drawing on a parchment when she had left.

"What is this?" asked Arc, withholding his attack more out of curiosity than surprise. "This is not Artisan technology."

"What?" said Qiao, firing off an arrow at the Berserker. The arrow embedded itself in one of the rocks in the chest region, but didn't penetrate. Too dense, even for myssteel. Or else the green energy field offered some protection.

"Never mind for now," said Arc. "Qiao, aim for the…"

The shell's right hand formed an incomplete fist and lashed out at Arc. It lashed out from a good twenty feet away, the stone hand flying out as if the shell's arm had instantly lengthened, smacking Arc's cheek. The dragon roared in pain as his head slammed back, his body toppling over and onto the rosemary bush he had spent the morning gently tending. It crunched beneath his bulk, flattened and utterly destroyed.

"Arc!" Qiao didn't have time to check on the dragon. The Berserker's flying fist returned to its source, the shell back to its proper human proportions. Qiao aimed another arrow at a crack in the Berserker's leg region, but she lowered her arrow as a second Berserker landed next to its companion, as creepy and powerful as the first. She had to rethink her approach here - shoot at one, the other would nail her with a floating fist while she was occupied.

The Hunter Platform came to a soft halt behind them. Kong and the chain-happy woman jumped off at a run, forward-rolling to disperse momentum as they hit dirt. Then they were racing toward her with intense stares and weapons drawn.

"Something tells me we're not going to win this one," Qiao remarked as the Berserkers began to advance on her.

* * *

"You're not on da list."

In a first for the criminal settlement of Outcast Bay, someone had gone to the effort of hiring a pair of burly garlic-endowed well-armed guards to screen incoming visitors from the forest trail. Linebreaker clearly wasn't aware of this new rule, as he stood in front of the guards looking like he'd been slapped. Nestor stood off to the side, wishing he had Arc or Toothless around for some non-violent intimidation. The morning just got better and better.

"What is this list you keep referring to?" said Linebreaker. "This is Outcast Bay. There is no such thing as lists here."

"Da boss lady says you have to be on da list," said the cretin-class guard. "Once she clears out, everything go back to normal."

"Lance, Razor, my friends, my ship is in there and I have clients waiting," insisted Linebreaker. He knew the two louts, not that familiarity was doing him any good.

"As I says…"

"How much?" Linebreaker got out his coin purse and placed his hand inside it, ready to start counting. "If docking fees were going up, they could have just said so."

"You don't gets it." The cretin guard pushed the coin purse away, looking at the captain as if _he _was the cretin. "Dis life or death. Da Alchemiss… Alkeymist… Da boss lady will rips out our spines and make candleholders out of our heads if we lets anyone not on the list in. Just waits a few hours, den everything…"

"….Go back to normal," Linebreaker finished, throwing his hands up in defeat and walking off. "This is what I get for having a life outside of smuggling."

"I take it there's no secret back way into the place," said Nestor, once the fuming captain had rejoined him under a sickly willow tree, out of earshot and eyesight of the guards.

"Not one that would fit a pair of dragons, and not at high tide." Linebreaker took off his handkerchief and crumpled it between his hands. "This Alchemist person must have a great deal of sway to close down Outcast Bay."

"You know anything about her?"

"Just rumors. A mighty ship captain. I would say pirate except she's not known for attacking merchant ships. She is also a recent tale. I have smuggled for many years and I have only in the last month heard of her. I suspect she is the reason my last crew up and deserted."

Nestor's curiosity was piqued. "So she's here. Since we aren't heading to sea anytime soon, perhaps this warrants a look-see."

Linebreaker laughed ruefully. "If you think you can sweet talk your way past Lance and Razor, then your powers of debate are greater than mine."

"I have a better idea," said Nestor impishly. "Just don't freak out when you see me disappear."

Linebreaker didn't, though mostly because he chose to laugh heartily instead. Life's incredible array of wonder, he called it. As far as Nestor cared, he could call it whatever he wanted.

One better idea later, Nestor was inside Outcast Bay, watching the residents gather in front of what had to be the dock section. To not have oblivious pedestrians saunter into him by accident, Nestor found a nice overlook next to a deserted termite-infested shack. The shack gave him adequate cover from wandering eyes so long as he didn't stand up and start screaming.

He almost accidentally did just that when he mistakenly placed a hand on the shack and the termite infestation sent a few scouts along his nigh-invisible arm to see if any part of him was made of wood. He jumped away and swatted off the tiny invaders, then composed himself once more, glad he was Shrouded so that no one could see his blushing face. Stupid six-legged abominations.

The crowd below was staring at the authoritative-looking woman in scholarly clothes and she in turn was patiently waiting for two uniformed men to stop adjusting a starfish-like object on the ground directly behind her. At first glance, Nestor thought it might be a piece of stolen or salvaged art, maybe an ancient archeological find that someone thought they could sell off to a king or noble. But he dismissed that idea. They wouldn't shut down a settlement of rogues for an art auction.

He noticed an old cog anchored in the middle of the bay, one with more holes in its hull than in its sails. Maybe the termites got to that ship, too. A bad place to anchor a ship, right in traffic. Nestor's gut told him that the ship was significant, but his gut wasn't helpful beyond that.

The two men fiddling with the starfish crystal finally ended their fiddling and moved off, handing something to the woman that Nestor couldn't see well, though he thought he saw a glimpse of lavender crystal before her hands covered it up. The starfish's five arms had been positioned to point out at the bay and elevated at an angle towards the sky. In the direction of the sacrificial ship.

_Sacrificial_. Yet again, another gut-level thought. Everything about this screamed as much. That ship's days were numbered, and they were about to find out why.

The crowd hushed up completely, spellbound like little children at a Punch and Judy puppet show. The woman cleared her throat and began to speak in a clear, commanding voice.

"Let me correct a few misconceptions before we begin. Know that I am the Alchemist, but also know that I am not a pirate. While I may do a fair amount of recruiting in a pirate-like fashion, I don't see the need to rob and plunder. There's far more business to be had in the art of innovation. So if you must label me, the label is _innovator._"

The crowd glanced at each other in confusion. She'd just lost half of them with this high-minded talk. Nestor definitely believed she was no pirate, not with a mystical name like the Alchemist. Pirates worked like Vikings in terms of name choices, choosing scary names like Blood Runner and Death Dealer.

"Doesn't sound menacing, does it?" she continued. "_Look out, innovators on the horizon! Run for it!_ But innovators _should_ be feared, because they're the ones with the power. Especially when it comes to warfare. Think about it. Swords were once made of bronze. Then came tempered steel. We all got used to longbows before someone put together a crossbow. For centuries horse-backed cavalry was the saving grace of any army. And then some crazy person goes and starts riding dragons."

She had the audience again, many of them snickering or murmuring at the dragon-rider comparison. They weren't taking it seriously. The rumors and stories had made it down to Riki Poka, as Nestor could attest to, but most folk would stay disbelievers until they personally witness a dragon fly into town with a rider onboard. Such was the nature of the human race, it seemed.

Nestor resisted his urge to laugh. Outcast Bay would believe in dragon riders soon enough.

"Silly idea, isn't it?" said the Alchemist, talking through the mutters of disbelief, smiling as if this was all part of the speech. "But what if it's not? What if an army of dragons comes to your city, and you're still on horseback? What happens when dragons go on the market, and you're too slow to buy them, train them? You couldn't hide from them here, or anywhere. Air power – the next big innovation, and it's coming to a city near you.

"But let's say that you don't have to worry about dragons and life goes on as normal. You… " She paused, struggling to find an appropriate non-insulting word. "You … fine examples of independent thinking are always looking over your shoulders, warring with other gangs, worried about impending crackdowns by the Lords. You yearn for your own piece of the pie, or a bigger piece. You feel resentment – why should the Lords be in charge? What makes them better than you? If you had the power to take over, wouldn't you?"

Positive murmuring this time. She was speaking this crowd's language now. Nestor didn't know where this was going, but it couldn't be going anywhere good.

"Skill, muscle, strategy, numbers, luck – that helps. But the surest way to best your enemies is with superior technology. That is what I can give you, you and your leaders. I can make your armor impenetrable to arrow and fire. I can forge your steel to slice through a dozen soldiers at once. Forget dragons - I can make you fly without lifting a wing. And when the fearful hordes rise up to stop your rightful ascension into the bastions of power, you can bring the thunder down on them."

She paused once again for dramatic purposes, then added, "When I say that, I'm being literal."

She stepped away from the starfish object so that the crowd could get an unobstructed view of the real show, the one starring the floating shipwreck in the bay. Nestor felt his heart quicken in anticipation, wondering what manner of disaster was about to manifest. While he had heard more convincing speeches from used carriage salesmen, the Alchemist carried herself with such authority that if she said she had the sun in a jar, you'd believe her.

Nestor would have stayed around longer to watch the "thunder" in action had he not picked up on a commotion coming from the direction of the guard post he had snuck by. The one he had left Linebreaker at. He thought of Hiccup and the others, flying in late and attempting to bypass the guards. Last thing they needed was to rile up the scoundrels of Outcast Bay. Better to be safe than sorry and check up on the situation.

Nestor backed off from his vantage point and retraced his steps to the post. Halfway there, with several tents and ramshackle homes still blocking his vision, the commotion began to resemble a fray. Hard to make out the details with his ears alone, but there was definitely weapon-on-weapon action in process.

Speeding up, he ran around the corner of a burnt-out cottage and nearly crumpled his nose on the chest of a huge man. A distinctly trollish huge man who stared at Nestor's distorted form first with total surprise, then with total sadistic glee.

"Greeting, Outlander," he said, right before letting his massive right fist take over the introductions.


	13. Cascade

**Author's Notes (If you're reading this after 2012, or don't like to read the mad ramblings of an insane mind, you may want to skip ahead):**

To begin:

1) Good news. The complete story is finished, edited, inspected, critiqued, re-edited, and set to be burned in my fireplace soon enough. But I might post the rest of it before the burning commences. Based on my calculations, the final installment will be posted Sept. 28, 2012.

2) I have begun work on the next story, and as it's going to be a lot shorter one (for reasons that I'll explain later but which may not make any sense anyway) and I won't have any other writing projects in the way, expect it by the end of this year (2012). However, my summer schedule is coming to an end and I will be working my usual job once more, so writing time will go back to being limited. I will give folks an update on my progress at the conclusion of this story.

Assuming that folks don't think I'm a total hack by the end of this story, I'd recommend Author Alerts for future stories.

Onwards.

**Chapter Twelve: Cascade**

Qiao brought up her bow once more, brandishing her drawn arrow threateningly and hoping to convince the charging soldiers to break off or seek cover. But none of the soldiers advancing on her acted concerned. The two Berserkers lumbered toward her at a measured pace while Kong and the white-haired woman went for the flanking maneuver.

She had one good shot against four targets. She knew that, they knew that. They probably liked their chances. She certainly didn't like hers.

As if the universe had suddenly decided that the battle had gotten too one-sided, one of the Berserkers quickly developed a bad case of lightning. The air hissed angrily as a thick bolt of electricity coursed into the rocky shell, the floating stones snapping with white lightning. The Berserker slowed, inconvenienced as it stomped toward Qiao but hardly fazed. Then more blasts struck it, a steady stream of lightning surging onto the Berserker's shell. It froze in place, locking up in midair, the soldier inside wriggling as he tried to get the mystical creation to continue obeying his whims. The whole suit now writhed with crackling energy, the gaps between the rocks filling with raw violent current, the soldier within disappeared from view.

Then a vicious thunderclap very nearly blew out Qiao's eardrums. The concussion staggered her briefly, just as it staggered Kong and his associates. Something crashed out the backside of the glowing shell. The poor soldier inside flew backwards like a drunk getting tossed out a pub's window by a bouncer, his chest harness smoking where the power gem used to be. He screamed a high-pitched bleat as he cleared a good fifteen feet, mowing down innocent flowers before coming to an unconscious halt. Whiffs of smoke lingered on his clothes, a light glow emitting from his moaning body.

Deprived of its pilot and its energy source, the stony battle suit lost all of its power and fell apart, going from a humanoid set of floating stones to a lifeless pile of stones on the ground.

"Overload," said Arc, residual lightning running around the claws of his left hand. As he righted himself, Qiao noticed the discoloration on his check where the Berserker had tagged him. It must sting something fierce. But Arc's attack had brought the fight to a standstill, the Alchemist's goons watching Arc with newfound concern.

Qiao laughed out her relief. "Good thing you don't have a glass jaw."

"Yes, but it's times like these where I wish I still had a barrier field," Arc commented.

"This battle is not your affair, dragon," declared Kong, his twin swords out in front of him. The woman soldier next to him had her chain unwound, swinging one end around as if eagerly expecting to cast it out any second.

"Do we have to go through this song-and-dance routine?" said Arc irritably. "I may not be familiar with your master's designs, but the art she practices is based on older techniques that I have knowledge in. I spared the life of your comrade just now, though he won't have to use a torch to see at night for a few days. Persist, and I will not be as kind to _you_."

"Right," said Qiao, feeling a bit puffed up now that the battle was going her way. "Shove off and take your trash with you."

Kong didn't seem like a stupid guy. Qiao figured he knew a no-win battle when he saw one. What she wanted him to do was tuck his tail between his legs and run. Instead, he glanced at the pilot of the other Berserker, who was nervously awaiting Kong's order, and said only one word.

"Cascade."

The pilot looked at Kong as if he'd just been told to shove dirt in his mouth. "Sir?" he tentatively replied.

"_Cascade!_" Kong insisted.

Arc and Qiao realized something was up right as the pilot gulped and raised his hands to the sky, as if beckoning the clouds for assistance. The Berserker's form instantly shifted from a humanoid figure to an orbiting cloud of debris, the cloud spreading out as the flying rocks circled him, putting on speed with each rotation. A dizzying blur of stones twirled in the air, grinding down the plant life underneath like a mystical scythe.

Back to standing on his hind legs, Arc revved up another lightning bolt and fired at the second Berserker. The lightning hit the flying rocks, the black stones glowing bluish-white as the energy jumped from black rock to black rock. Qiao noticed Kong diving behind a wild rosebush and shoving the white-haired soldier with him as the stones twirled faster and faster, glowing more and more brilliantly with each advancing second.

"This is a self-destruct thing, isn't it?" Qiao remarked as Arc went to her rescue for the second time today, grabbing her, as the rock storm became a rock explosion.

Every stone disintegrated at once, filing the air with flying rocks that fragmented into pebbles, scattering at slingshot velocity, coating the already tormented garden in hundreds of high-speed projectiles. The sunflowers fared the worse, their pedals perforated and severed, their lanky stems collapsing like undermined towers.

Arc didn't do much better. Shielding Qiao under his torso, his scales deflected most of the projectiles, but Qiao could feel the mighty dragon quiver and shudder in pain, mercilessly pelted by the hard rain.

The rock storm, the so-called cascade, came to an end as the final stones plopped to the ground. Long seconds ticked by, Qiao underneath a hunched over, semi-conscious dragon. She called out to Arc, but he was in no shape to respond, grunting out an aggravated reply. It took even more long seconds to drag herself out of his clutches. She stood up, coated in flower pedals and loose dirt from her escape effort, and grimaced at the devastation wrought on Arc's magnificent wild garden.

Or would have, given time. The only time she _did_ have was the one second she could spare to aim an arrow with her prized bow at an incoming Kong. The man had weathered the Berserker cascade with bruises and ripped clothes but no serious injury, and he charged her like a maddened elephant, his swords crossed and leading the way.

She didn't think. She didn't bother to make it non-lethal. She couldn't let them take her.

She let fly right at Kong's determined face.

He halted, his swords scissoring and catching the arrow in mid-flight, trapping the shaft with the flat of his blades. They opened to let it fall impotently to the earth.

"Oh… my…" said Qiao, flummoxed by the impossible move. Kong didn't give her a chance to finish, his swords swiping at her bow, the impressively sharp blades severing her bowstring and splitting the bow into two useless pieces of lacquered wood. Then she was falling as a metal chain wrapped around her legs and yanked them out from under her. She crashed hard on her back, crying out as the air blasted from her lungs, her head knocking hard on the compacted earth.

Dazed, her head ringing with agony, she made out one final comment: _a lot of fuss over a has-been_. Sounded like the chain-happy woman, because the next second brought the woman's smug face into view, along with a rag of caustic chemicals that she placed over Qiao's mouth.

* * *

There was only so much one can do when you're writhing in pain, and Arc had the market cornered on pain. A thousand angry pinpricks all over his body, causing him to tense up and clench his teeth each time he flexed a muscle.

He knew Qiao was in trouble, could see her being dragged off toward the floating platform Kong had arrived on. He watched in infuriating dismay as Kong carried Qiao's unresponsive body over his shoulder and onto the lowered platform, Arc demanding cooperation from his body and not getting it.

Arc could see the prone form of the self-destructive pilot, still alive but severely bruised and battered from the same rock storm he had unleashed. The female warrior took one look at the pilot, callously shrugged her shoulders, and went to drag the first pilot back to the platform.

Arc got his right rear leg to relax, managed to straighten up as the platform lifted off the ground. He got his arms to bend as the platform sped up, sailing off into the blue like a dandelion seed in an updraft. He got his wings to unfurl as the platform disappeared over the tree line, flying a southerly direction.

He stood on all fours now, in the middle of his gutted garden. Four hundred years of cultivation ruined in five minutes. A sordid lesson was here to be learned for sure, but Arc's thoughts went to the thief and her "associates." They were well trained, well prepared, and not at all bothered by lighting-spitting talking dragons. They hadn't finish off Arc, either due to a time constraint or a fearful belief that even a downed dragon was too much of a hassle, but otherwise they hadn't made any serious errors.

The intended goal behind Arc's true plan had come to pass, though not in the way he had envisioned. Qiao's past had been exposed. But now it left Qiao in a world of hurt… unless he did something.

Postpone his plans and go after her? Put the world-saving on hold? Not the pragmatic thing to do. Qiao didn't exactly have his trust, either, and even less so considering the huge implications surrounding Qiao's former acquaintance, this so-called Alchemist.

But she had grown on him, and the thought of her suffering displeased him almost as much as if Nestor was the one floating off to get tortured. Still, if he was to pursue, he needed the others and he needed a plan.

He groaned as his achy wings got him airborne, picking up the injured assailant as he flew out of the garden. He'd drop the man near the city outskirts, near a road where some Good Samaritan might tend to his wounds. The man was in no shape for answering questions, and Arc didn't have the time to wait for him to recover.

Arc shook his head in annoyance. As always, he had too much to do and no time to do it in.

* * *

"Bud, turn us around."

Toothless's response to Hiccup's command was to tilt his head in confusion. Hiccup understood the dragon's reaction. Toothless was already firmly committed to the chase, committed to catching this death-ray spewing, half-metal Night Fury and stopping her from harming his riders. They were rocketing above the clouds a fair distance behind Metal Fury, having neither gained nor lost ground while trailing their mysterious adversary.

That was what Hiccup was afraid of. Toothless could stay airborne for hours at a time. No reason to believe Metal Fury couldn't do the same.

"Bud, I'm serious," said Hiccup. "Turn us around."

Toothless craned his neck so that Hiccup could see the dragon's unconvinced face. Toothless didn't want to break off pursuit, at least not without a good reason.

"This is a distraction, Toothless," said Hiccup. "She's leading us on a wild dragon chase."

"How do you figure that?" asked Astrid in his ear. "We were minding our own business when she attacked us."

"Except she didn't really attack, did she?" he replied. "She could've surprised us while invisible, but she didn't. She could have hit us with that death ray of hers, but she didn't. She provoked us, got our attention, and now is heading off to nowhere fast. It's like she's trying to keep us occupied."

"Occupied from…?" Hiccup sensed that Astrid's pause meant she'd just pieced it together. "From joining everyone at Outcast Bay. She's bait."

"It means one of the others is in trouble, maybe all of them." Hiccup rested his hand on Toothless's neck in a coaxing manner. "Bud, we have to make sure our friends are okay. I'm asking you to let her go. I'm sure we'll be seeing her again, like it or not."

The dragon vacillated between staring at Hiccup and at the distant Metal Fury. The decision was tearing up Toothless. How long had Toothless gone without another of his kind to keep him company? Not that the female was in any way ideal company, nor was she a typical Night Fury, but she _was_ a Night Fury. If Hiccup found himself in a role reversal, the only human in a world of dragons, and he'd found another of his kind, he didn't think it'd matter how much of her was artificial. He'd want to be near her, to know that everything wasn't over and done with for his species.

With downcast eyes, Toothless suddenly angled them around and took up a new heading. One hundred and eighty degrees; back toward Riki Poka.

Hiccup rubbed Toothless supportively. "Thanks, bud. If we're lucky, maybe everything's okay with…"

"Uh, Hiccup? I don't think she's done with us yet." Astrid's alarmed tone and backward glance made Hiccup swivel his head. True enough, Metal Fury had swung around in the air and was now trailing _them_. Too far away to do much, though…

Then the infamous green glow began to sparkle in front of the metal dragon, twinkling like a distant star. Hiccup blanched as the glow built in intensity, signaling a repeat of Metal Fury's death beam. But surely she was too far away to make the shot. Even Toothless couldn't hit anything from a quarter-mile, especially a moving target.

"Toothless…"

The blue morning sky warped into a putrid rainbow as the blast screeched over their heads. Hiccup felt his entire body tremble with pants-wetting horror as the air seemed to scream above him, the pulsing light both blinding and disturbingly welcoming, as if it wanted you to reach out and touch it despite knowing it would be the last thing you ever did.

Astrid screamed bloody terror and crushed Hiccup between her strong arms. Toothless screamed in unison and went into an emergency dive to escape the foul energy wave. He leveled out at a hundred feet above the sea, his burst of speed gaining them a little extra distance from their pursuer. Hiccup fixed his eyes on the dissipating blast, switching to his analytical mind to hold back the horror. The only problem was that, this time, analyzing what he'd just witnessed made it _worse._

The range of Metal Fury's blast was impossible. It had gone past them for several hundred feet more. Two-thirds of a mile, a blast as wide as Toothless's torso. She had missed, so the good news was that either the dragon really didn't want them dead, only occupied, or a Night Fury's talent for accuracy had its limits.

Bad news? There was no way they could go fast enough to escape the dragon's attack. She'd pace them as they had paced her, and whether by accident or on purpose, the next blast might hit.

"Is she trying to kill us now?" asked Astrid, easing up on the crushing but no less freaked out.

"I think she's telling us not to go this way," said Hiccup, mostly to reassure Astrid. "We need to lose her."

"If she's as good a flyer as Toothless, I don't see how," said Astrid.

Hiccup didn't know either, but for a change he didn't have to come up with a stupid-crazy idea to save the day. The Metal Fury did it for him.

Behind them, the Metal Fury dived to match altitude with Toothless. Only she kept dropping. Hiccup watched as Metal Fury's wing beats became erratic, her legs dangling, her poise faltering as if she'd gotten super-exhausted in the spate of ten seconds. She couldn't fly a straight line, and she now had moments when she threatened to up and fall right into the ocean, like the earth was yanking at her with ethereal hands.

Hiccup couldn't believe their luck. She was… malfunctioning.

Metal Fury must have realized that her pursuit was threatening to become a plummet. She followed Toothless until one of her weakness spells put her right on top of the breaking ocean waves, her paws wet with sea spray. Determined to fulfill her duty, she kept going for another few seconds before her half-metal head ducked down too far and was doused as a result. Shaking her head furiously, she finally broke off the chase and headed for the nearest coastal cliff.

Hiccup's last sight of her was her shining, scaly form disappearing into the forest of larch trees growing along the coast. He felt no relief at seeing her go. None at all.

"What just happened?" asked Astrid, who had watched Metal Fury as well. Toothless acted similarly baffled, though he kept on course toward Riki Poka and began ascending back to a proper cruising altitude. He was no longer choked up about parting company with Metal Fury. Getting shot at by death rays does that to you.

"Well, I'd tell you, but then I'd have to kill you," joked Hiccup, trying to hide his lingering anxiety. "Again, don't know."

"You have no idea at all? You're the one who talks to Nestor and Arc all the time about this mystic technological stuff."

"And yet the subject about half-metal Night Furies has never come up… though I do have a guess."

"I trust your guesses over most people's conclusions."

Hiccup told Toothless to maintain their heading and then looked back at Astrid. "Metal Fury's steel parts might be myssteel, though the color's off and I didn't exactly get a chance to see her up close. Myssteel is what you make Guardians out of, and Guardians require a powercore or something along those lines. Maybe she has limits to her power and those death-ray blasts take a lot out of her."

"So she ran out of fuel?" said Astrid. "That makes as much sense as anything else. Lucky us."

Hiccup didn't say it, but he didn't think there was any luck to it. If Metal Fury had wanted them dead, they'd _be_ dead. If this really was a diversion, then it had worked, because they were going to be close to an hour late for the boat.

If their friends were in trouble, the air cavalry wasn't going to show up in time.

* * *

Linebreaker had a problem with waiting, which wasn't the same as being impatient. You didn't stand to last as a sea captain if you couldn't learn to enjoy long voyages and monotonous cooking options. _Waiting_ was something different, though. Waiting meant you had no plan, no hobby, no ideas, and were essentially at the mercy of outsides forces out to affect your life. If you had a destination while out to sea, you were never waiting. If you were tailoring a dress for an obese nobleman's trophy wife, you were not waiting.

If you were standing outside the entrance to the berth of your vessel, barred from the party because you were not _that_ kind of outcast… that was the wrong kind of waiting.

He leaned against a sympathetic pine, trees being the masters of waiting and all, and thought about why he'd been omitted from this gathering. Had he not toed the line, keeping his mouth shut about the countless dirty deeds and deals that transpired within Outcast Bay and Riki Poka? Had he not changed his name to something more appropriate to exciting sea travel, a name people could remember? Was he not generous with pay?

Was it the fact that his heart belonged as much to fashion as to the sea, or the fact that he wasn't heartless or ruthless enough to be feared?

Linebreaker sighed as he wrapped his handkerchief back around his scalp, trying to return to his outcast persona. The types who lived in Outcast Bay used moody loners as garnish for their entrees. He couldn't have Razor and Lance seeing him in a sentimental way.

To alleviate his funk and remove the "waiting" from his situation, along came one of his clients. Saga, the far-too-serious-for-her-own-good Norse, was racing down the forest trail as if an upset mother bear was on her heels.

He waved to her to come to him, but while she must have seen him as she ran by, she paid him no heed as she sprinted straight at the two half-dozing guards.

"Good Saga, we must talk!" he called out. All he did was wake up the two guards, who now realized that a serious-minded Norse was right on top of them.

Razor had the chance to say, "Yous not on the…" before he and his companion found themselves each with a dagger hilt to those nose. Saga clobbered both guards in unison and sped by the two staggering men, her pace unhindered.

Linebreaker took a minute to see if some clarity would come by and help him understand what was going on. None did, nor did any of his other clients follow in Saga's footsteps. Trouble awaited him if he went into Outcast Bay, but to stand around any longer would count as "waiting" and he couldn't abide by that. Besides, two of his clients were now in Outcast Bay and he had a duty to make sure they made it out okay. He wasn't feeling much loyalty to the residents right now, not after the public snubbing.

With a shrug, he calmly walked past the two guards as their dazed minds finally allowed their bodies to topple into the dirt.

* * *

One massively knuckled fist thundered into Nestor, a second beefy hand grabbing him by the arm and tossing him away from the charred cottage. A second black-and-ashy cottage broke his fall, one wall bursting into splintery confetti as Nestor went sprawling.

Nestor laid there in shock, his mind reeling from what he'd just witnessed. Not the ground-pounding troll type, not the unkind manhandling, not the fact that his Shroud had done him no good just now, not even the fact that the jerk had called him by his unappreciated Norse title (though that was pretty disturbing as well). It was all the flashy bursts of orange, indicating a barrier field in action.

The _jerk's_ barrier field in action.

"Coming out anytime soon?" the jerk gruffly asked, standing near the hole in the cottage Nestor's body had just made.

Nestor used his growing anger to force away the shock, brushing himself off as he got to his feet. Barrier field or not, the man needed to be taught some manners.

"Care to introduce yourself?" said Nestor. "You have me at a disadvantage."

"You have no idea," said the jerk, smiling arrogantly. "But so as not to be rude, you may call me Norom."

"We went past rude behavior one punch-to-the-face ago," said Nestor, shunting half of his field power to his right arm and rushing Norom. The big man didn't try to evade or parry, the punch connecting with his oversized jaw. One bright flash of citrus color and one slight stagger backward – that was the extent of Norom's reaction.

Unwelcome shock returned to Nestor. That kind of attack had sent burly Vikings flying in the past. Norom took advantage of Nestor's bewilderment by swinging out with his right fist. Nestor dodged to his right but still got grazed on the shoulder, the impact nearly unbalancing him. Ducking the predictable left swing and backing off, Nestor decided that keeping outside of the big man's reach was the healthier strategy.

"Come closer," said Norom cheerfully, "and we'll settle this like OOFF!"

Nestor obliged, interrupting Norom by rushing in, delivering three jabs to Norom's stomach, and then dancing away from the counterattack. Nestor didn't stop to pat himself on the back – Norom's reaction was more from surprise, not injury.

"Tickles a little," chided Norom.

"Tickling can get very annoying over time," said Nestor. To prove it, Nestor repeated the move, but with four hits to the brute's belly. Norom's sweeping arm almost got him in the face, but even without adding power to his legs Nestor could easily outmaneuver the big lug.

"Is this how we're doing it?" goaded Nestor, feeling a bit of his usual confidence returning. "I get to whittle you down with a thousand punches? I'm game if you are."

Norom no longer had the amused grin, taking two steps backward and reaching his left arm behind his back, grabbing at something among the burnt ruins. On guard, Nestor expected a projectile in his future, a convenient rock or a burnt piece of lumber.

What he didn't expect was two-thirds of a wooden wall.

Norom's arm shimmered deep orange as he flung the wall sideways like a discus, Nestor catching it in his midsection. The impact shattered the wall into a hundred pieces and blasted Nestor through the destroyed cottage once again, creating a serious cloud of ash and dust as well as a new hole in the quickly-destabilizing wall.

"_Salo krebit_!" Nestor moaned as he picked himself off the growing debris pile. He was used to a certain amount of assault and battery in his life, but pummeling never got pleasant. Still, this big guy could take a beating of his own. No more pleasantries.

"Could you at least tell me why?" asked Nestor, putting an air of desperation in his tone. He couldn't see Norom through the debris and dust, but the obscurity went both ways.

"The Alchemist doesn't want you here," answered Norom, his voice rising as he presumably neared Nestor's hiding spot. "That's good enough reason."

"How does a troll like you willingly work for a human, and how did you get a barrier field?" Nestor placed his back on the last intact section of the wall. He hoped the dust cloud and echo effect of the cabin would obscure him long enough to get a little intel out of the big ox.

"Half-troll," clarified Norom, "and I'm happy to work for the Alchemist."

_Half-troll?_ Nestor's troll comment had been in jest. Exactly how does one…?

No, actually, he really didn't want to know.

"You didn't answer my question." Nestor pleaded to the Fates for one more second of luck. The dust began to settle and Norom wouldn't have any trouble spotting him in the clear air.

Norom's voice was right up on the opposite side of the wall. "I don't tell dead men my life's story."

Nestor powered up both arms and gave the wall a tremendous shove. Stone and lumber scraped and squealed as the wall collapsed outward, banging into the half-troll. Most of the wall broke apart on him like a sea wave on the rocks, but Norom nonetheless staggered blindly for a few seconds, stunned and off-balance.

Nestor rushed in and smacked Norom with a glowing-red right hook, right to the chin. His head reeling backward, Norom flailed out with a backhand that scored a lucky hit on Nestor's chest, knocking the smaller man away before he could do more damage. A full-strength punch hadn't felled the lug, but he definitely felt it that time.

Norom angrily shook his head and grimaced at Nestor, who was feeling rather pleased with himself. Norom's grimace then faded, replaced with a measure of appreciation for his opponent. This guy was one of those fight-me-and-I-will-respect-you types, apparently.

"You're no pushover, I'll give you that." Norom unkinked his neck and motioned for Nestor to come at him.

Nestor frowned and mimicked the motion. "I think it's your turn."

"I thought you Vikings were all about frontal assaults."

"Not a Viking!" protested Nestor.

"Not caring," said Norom. "Rock-paper-scissors?"

Nestor suspected this was some kind of delaying tactic. The commotion that had lured him back to the settlement's entrance had only grown louder, and now there was a weird buzzing sound coming from back where the Alchemist and the gathering of local louts were parked. The artifact must be about to do something.

_Priorities_, thought Nestor. _One of the others may be in trouble. Maybe Saga._

"Okay," said Nestor, prepping his hands for a round of Rock-Paper-Scissors. "On three."

Norom and Nestor yelled out in unison: _one, two…_ Only Nestor's version of _three _was a sprint away from Norom and toward the guard post. Norom's surprise didn't stop him from stomping after him in hot pursuit.

* * *

While the rest of the decrepit community of Outcast Bay had a prior engagement to attend, Saga met up with what she assumed were the holdouts as she found the main path through the settlement. Four men in dark-green uniforms had the dirty street buttoned up tight, their swords and axes at the ready. They gave her no warning and rushed her as soon as she entered the street.

Not long after, four men were groaning on the ground in various states of consciousness, their weapons in fragments.

She studied the four incapacitated soldiers, baffled by their relatively clean-cut attire and high-quality weapons. Not wanting to start a war with Outcast Bay, Saga had decided not to kill them. But by Linebreaker's account, Outcast Bay had no formal guard. Had someone organized the criminals at last, or were these men not of Outcast Bay?

Keeping the fight non-lethal had taken some time and had produced a lot of noise. If other soldiers were around, they'd be coming to check up on the situation. Perhaps one of them could be kept conscious this time, so to allow questioning.

She scanned the shantytown for signs of Nestor. Nothing so far. While her vision remained hard to decipher, she had gotten the impression Nestor was entangled with someone large and troll-like. The vision hadn't mentioned if he was winning.

As she searched for a clue or hint of Nestor's predicament, she noticed one of the men on the ground was painfully struggling to stand back up. He was not as injured as his comrades. A session of intimidation was in order.

"Hello there, Sister."

She heard the three words coming from above her as if hearing them from her memory, the voice instantly recognizable, the tone ugly and spiteful. In the past, Cragfist only called her Sister when he had something belligerent to say. It had never been, nor would ever be, a term of endearment, not when used by her brother.

He stood on the roof of a general trader's store, within easy throwing distance of her daggers. He wore the same uninspiring uniform as the men lying in the dirt and had trimmed back his hair further than usual, but the swagger and the condemnation in his voice remained the same. He leaned out as if daring his sister to use him for target practice.

It's hard to surprise a Seer, but surprised she was.

"You thought I was still back home, didn't you?" he said. "I don't know why you'd think that. Thanks to you, I have no home."

He jumped off the balcony and landed right in front of Saga, indifferent to the pain his jump had to have generated. His judging eyes never left hers. "What, no greeting? The only Gunnarr around for hundreds of miles and you're not automatically grateful?"

She was too shocked to feel much of anything, but gratitude was certainly not the first thing on her mind. His appearance here was a bad omen, vision or no vision.

"Brother, I…" She broke off her attempt at speech. She hadn't quite figured out what to say yet.

"No words at all, I see." Cragfist spat on the ground in front of Saga. "The only words you've ever had for me were always unkind. 'You are inadequate.' 'You are not worthy of leading our people.' Even as children, you always knew where to twist that sharp tongue of yours."

"You had a home, Cragfist," said Saga, finding her voice at last.

"I had _nothing._ They banished you, but they ruined me. The failed son of Stonefist, who nearly destroyed our people. The sister of a traitor, the last Seer of our clan. You robbed our family of every morsel of power we had."

"I saved our people, Cragfist."

"You should have saved our family first, Sister." He spat the word _S__ister_ as if the word was bitter.

"We have not been family for a long time," countered Saga. "There was never anything between us beyond contempt. You hated me, I know, but you used me just as our father used me. I know what family feels like now, and it is nothing like what we had."

"Right, the Dragon Rider. The Outlander. The girl that humiliated me in combat. Fitting that you find comfort in the arms of our enemies." He took a menacing step toward her.

Saga knew where this was going. The Gunnarr way for addressing perceived wrongs usually resulted in spilt blood. She crossed her daggers in front of her, a gesture of warning. "Brother, what would be gained by your death today?"

Cragfist smirked. "If there's any death today, it won't be mine!"

His hands grabbed at the hilt of his two-handed sword, pulled it free, and brought the gleaming weapon down on Saga. She raised her daggers high, catching the sword between them, her arms quivering from the strength of the overhead chop.

He immediately pulled away, did a full spin while bringing the sword around at navel height. Saga jumped out of the way, letting Cragfist overbalance and stumble. Her swearing, spinning brother had just given her a opening – one good swipe with her dagger to his arm and her brother would be unable to count past five. But questions stayed her attack, questions revolving around the four-foot myssteel sword he now wielded, how he had made his way south so quickly…

The master he served now. That uniform was not his preferred garb.

Cragfist hastily recovered and came at her again, chopping and slicing with the same tired routines as was wont of his nature. Always reliant on his brutality and physical power, with no hint of finesse. With such predictable moves, she diverted or dodged every swipe with little effort. He was faster than before, since the weight of a sword as long as his slowed even the strongest of warriors. Myssteel's featherweight advantage gave speed to his attacks, but speed was a poor substitute for intelligence.

"You have learned nothing from our father," she prodded. "Still making deals with dishonorable outsiders."

"I've picked the winning side, Sister." He overcompensated again, falling on one knee ungracefully. One more opportunity to end the fight, but she let it go and let him stand once more. "You thought deviltry-wielder Cervantes was bad news? The Alchemist makes him look like a cheap magician."

"How so?"

He swung out for the fortieth time, slicing air for the fortieth time. His breathing grew labored from exertion, his speech slow and winded. "She came here today to show the world what she can do. She has plans, Sister, and standing against her is the same as standing against the winter snow."

Saga grinned defiantly. "I have stood against a lot of things, Brother. She will be no different."

"Arrogant to the end, Sister."

A flurry of flying debris from off to the right distracted them both from the fight. Saga watched, with genuine relief, as Nestor sprinted into view along the street, ducking a thrown log that someone had chucked as a spear. The log took out the front railing of a local pub, showering the street in woody splinters.

The log thrower, a beastly man of great size and strength, ran into view as Nestor took hold of one of the longer railing pieces scattered on the ground and brought it down on the head of the huge man. The railing smashed into kindling with a flash of mystical force, knocking the beastly man back a step but producing no injury.

Nestor took the brief lull to notice Saga, grin funnily, and wave. "Explanations later!" he yelled out as the fight resumed, Nestor and the beastly man hard at it.

Cragfist sneered at the sight of Nestor, or perhaps the sneer was aimed at the beastly man. Regardless, Cragfist turned back to Saga and said, "Such company you keep. How far have you fallen from our clan, Saga?"

"And what of you, Cragfist?" she shot back calmly. "Look at what you have become. Little more than a slave."

"SLAVE?" His enraged chop missed her and buried his sword deep into the earth, forcing him to take a few seconds to pull it out of the dirt. Opening #46, come and gone. "I'm using her for as long as I need her."

"You are a pale shadow of what you once were," she continued. "You were second-in-command of our people. Now you pull guard duty like a pathetic whelp. You have no idea what this Alchemist is up to, do you?"

Cragfist roared and thrust out his sword over and over. Saga dodged it over and over. After the fourth try, he wizened up and stopped to catch his breath. "I know enough. She needs that thief you've been hanging out with. She probably has her by now."

Saga's eyes got dangerously narrow. "Qiao? What do you mean?"

Saga had always been good at getting her brother's cooperation. She knew that much of his bluster was based on his fear of her visions, as if she could yank out all his secrets with her mind. She couldn't, but she had never corrected him on that misconception. Even now, with all his hatred directed at her, he couldn't help but cower slightly when she gave him "the look."

But things had changed since their childhood and he brought up his sword between them, as if it was a ward against her imagined powers. "Like I'm about to tell you…"

Her right dagger flew out and slammed into his forehead, hilt-first, dazing him. Her left dagger smacked the hand supporting his sword. Man and weapon dropped to the dirt, Cragfist falling on his knees as Saga's daggers returned to her hands.

She crossed the few feet of ground to him and slid one dagger under his throat, forcing his head back awkwardly. "Tell me now, Cragfist!"

He sneered at her again, though his sneer was laced with panic. "Think you can do it, Sister? Finish off your own blood?"

"Do you desire to find out?" She pressed down slightly to remind him that it wouldn't take much effort for her mystical dagger to do him in. "Why is she after Qiao…?"

She felt it again – the vision pressure within her mind. Very bad timing. Usually they never came when she was in the middle of combat, but she didn't have a vision schedule to consult so there was always a chance one could occur at an inopportune moment.

But then she heard the horrid wind and the cries of terrified witnesses. She spotted a strange ring of color in the sky above the settlement, the clouds surrounding it swirling and parting in rapid circular upheaval. The vision pressure changed to a sucking sensation, the strength leaving her body as it had two nights ago. Her sight grew dim, dark, and then nearly black, as a ray of corrupted sunlight collided with a nearby building and reduced it to empty space.

It was happening again, but this time she had a reason. The thing above Outcast Bay, the thing that had turned the very sky… alive. It was shutting her down, draining her mind somehow. Leaving her helpless before her brother and his demented will.

She had found the source of the apocalyptic vision at last. She would have felt vindicated under better circumstances. As it was, her last memory was the scarred face of Cragfist, staring at her perplexed and speechless, as the darkness cradled her once more.

* * *

The starfish-like device, known to the Alchemist as a Catalysizer, had begun to radiate both a crimson flare and an ear-wrenching buzz as it powered up. The Alchemist paid it little heed, pivoting away from the impending show to concentrate on other matters. The louts in the audience were far more impressed, gasping and commenting in little voices as the radiance spread to the arms of the Catalysizer.

The Alchemist felt a lament through the ethereal connection, felt the shame of her trusted companion. She was apologizing for not stopping the Dragon Rider, though no direct words came to her mind. This was a special connection used for Dark Star, one of many features built into her metal frame and used to facilitate communication. Mind reading was not in her power, sadly, but the ability to sense the emotions of her dragon protector was.

_You did very well, Dark Star_, she said inside her mind, her thoughts transmitted through the gems to the Night Fury. _I know how difficult this was for you. The other leg of the operation went smoothly and you bought us the time we needed._

Another ping of regret. Dark Star was taking this harder than she should be. Then it occurred to the Alchemist that the regret might be over taking hostile action on the Dragon Rider's Night Fury. The one Cragfist called Toothless. Odd name – they had teeth, did they not?

_You did what had to be done_, she comforted. _He cannot belong in your world, nor you in his. Our lives are what they are now._

The glowing and the buzzing were at their optimum level now. She knew that without even looking. Time to bring the thunder.

_Return home, Dark Star_, she gently commanded. _Know that you did well this day._

She shut down the mental link to all her lieutenants, not just Dark Star. It was not smart to have any psychic powers in play when a Scouring commenced.

She brought up the object in her right hand. Yet another stone, one of the millions she'd seen over her lifetime. One of the thousands she had warped and molded to her liking. A chunk of white crystal as clear as spring water, it had one function to its existence.

A trigger. And all it took was one little word, whispered from her mind to the stone.

_Cascade._

A burst of inner illumination from within the crystal signaled activation. The tone of the Catalysizer's ominous hum went so high-pitched that every dog within a mile of the device howled in discomfort and fear. Dark crimson energy leapt from all five arms and lanced out to a convergence point hundreds of feet above the demonstration boat. The crowd's constant muttering became constant fear-tinged swearing as a ring of rainbow-colored light formed out of the atmosphere, the clouds around it shooing away like scared rabbits.

Someone in the crowd muttered that the clouds had just come alive. The Alchemist hid her smile. No, the clouds weren't alive. Nothing more than a sudden pressure change causing rapid winds. Still, the simple observation wasn't without some truth.

The Catalysizer had shut down after firing, going back to an inert, glow-free statue within seconds, but the show was now in the sky. The ring expanded rapidly, pushing its rainbow border outward and achieving a diameter of three hundred feet before stopping altogether.

The inside of the ring held a different climate than the rest of the clear-blue sky. At first there was only bright clouds with a strange luminance to them, rolling and tugging at the edges of the ring as if they were caught in a celestial tide. Then the clouds darkened, becoming thick and heavy and ready to let off some serious precipitation. But they went further than your usual thunderheads, taking on more and more shadow until they churned with blackness, undulating and shoving against its rainbow confinement.

All conversation had stopped at this point. Good. She didn't want them to miss anything.

The dark cloudy mass within the ring had no features, no glimpse of sentience or anything identifiable as living. Yet when you saw it, when you stared at it long enough, you felt that you were seeing something utterly different than anything in this world. Something not meant to ever grace this world. A primal feeling that repelled you as soon as you realized you were witnessing a horrendous living thing coming for a visit.

You felt like the sky was alive, alive and none too happy about being here.

Rents formed in the dark mass, revealing more darkness underneath the turbulent exterior. That is, until the blazing streams of green light, sickly and yet magnificent, spilled out of the rents. Directed downward, the shafts met the poor cog beneath it and began to disintegrate it, eating into mast and deck, sail and rigging. The air wailed in protest as steam plumes raced into the sky where the light touched matter, dust spraying out in every direction. Parts of the mast collapsed under the assault, only to have the debris fade into more dust as the horrid light found it.

The light also hit the water, but the water held shape except where it was disturbed by falling debris and the cracking hull of the boat. The Alchemist didn't yet know why the deadly light left water intact, though anything underwater met the same end as anything on the surface. Water was immune, but it gave no protection.

The cog would be gone shortly. Time to wrap up the sales pitch.

"This is the Scouring," she yelled out, having to raise her voice over the din of the demonstration. "Unstoppable and invincible. Imagine your enemies under that light. Imagine their strongholds, their castles, their armadas, their armies. What would you pay to have this power at your disposal?"

A random tree rooted on top of the eastern cliffs went poof.

She was facing the right direction to see it. The crowd wasn't, and thus stayed ignorant. Hiding her surprise, she calmly turned back to the demonstration. The cog was about gone, little more than junk now, but the light kept pouring on. It would keep doing so until the containment ring lost all its energy and shrank, pushing the Scouring back to its home dimension. The ring was the key – it kept the Scouring from destroying more than what was directly below it. Otherwise the devastation would be uncontrollable. Properly manipulating the ring required careful calculations, which she had personally worked out for this operation.

She noticed a slight flux in the ring, where the rainbow effect became solid gray instead. It was coming and going at irregular intervals. Where it did show up, a slight amount of Scouring breached it and fired off irregular blasts. Most were going skyward. A few weren't.

She clenched her teeth. Miscalculation. Too much time on other plans and not enough sleep. Having potential customers getting accidentally Scoured would defeat the purpose of this demonstration.

One of the houses acquired a sizeable hole in its roof. The subsequent collapse of the rest of the structure broke the audience's awe-inspired trance and made them look back at their settlement nervously.

The flux was getting worse _and _it was getting lower. There was a good thirty seconds left in the containment ring. Plenty of damage could be done. Still, if she did this right, she might drive her point home all the better.

She adopted her best completely-in-control smile and faced the fearful louts once more. "This is the power I wield. For the right price and the right buyer, it can be yours. But know that you cannot take it, you cannot threaten me for it, and that should I choose it, you will see it up close and personal."

As if working with her, one of the errant beams struck an outhouse not far from the gathering, reducing it to dust and planks. The timing was wondrous… and frightening.

The crowd did what crowds do when the fun of watching destruction threatened to spill onto them – mob panic. All the criminals and their spokesmen fled like one roiling herd of sheep, shoving past and over each other as several more blasts pelted the settlement, digging instant holes in the ground, removing entire walls from homes, even collapsing one small chunk of the eastern cliffs into the sea. All through it, she stood with her back to the Scouring, her smile unwavering, her pose commanding, the green-uniformed soldiers on her flank standing with her despite their frightened expressions.

All through it, she hoped that this wasn't the last thing she ever did. She hoped one of those blasts didn't find her.

But luck loved her that day. The ring shrunk as quickly as it had expanded, dragging the Scouring back to the convergence point. The weather around Outcast Bay stopped raging, though the clouds remained dispersed and stretched out. The deadly light had ceased. The audience continued to flee to their boats and to the exits out of town, but there had been no fatalities. The blasts hadn't gotten low enough to find them. The damage done to the few moaning bodies on the ground was pure mob.

"Tell your friends!" she yelled out to the criminals, relishing in their fear. "Tell your masters! Tell everyone you meet! I am the Alchemist, and I bring the thunder!"

* * *

Nestor had lost count of how many times his barrier field had saved his life, but whenever he mentioned this to Arc, the dragon usually argued that not everything we think might kill us actually _will_, so how could you know if something was destined to kill you unless you genuinely died?

Today, there was no doubt that he'd cheated death. Because the green ray of light that came at Nestor was none other than unfiltered death in radiance form.

The fight between him and Norom was on its twentieth round, barrier field clashing against barrier field. If a referee had been keeping score, Nestor could claim the upper hand in punches landed. But every one of Norom's blows felt like five of his. A barrier field amplified one's strength, all the way to a factor of ten if you channeled it correctly, so a half-troll with a barrier field and a chip on his shoulder was a serious contender for the role of Hercules in a Greek play.

The question about how Norom got hold of a barrier field tormented Nestor as he fought. Surely no Hyperion out there would willingly surrender part of his essence to this brute. Nestor's working theory focused on that gem-studded belt Norom wore around his waist. Nestor caught glimpses of tiny flashes in tandem with Norom's field ignition, though it was hard to really tell through the chaos and the pummeling.

Norom had grabbed another wagon to use as an unlikely club when the death ray found them. A nearby cottage suddenly found itself missing one wall, but Nestor didn't even notice. Too busy catching part of the blast. A second's worth, a glancing hit, but the reaction was immediate.

He felt a great shuddering all through his body, his field draining and fluttering madly as the beam grazed him. He felt immense cold and frying heat simultaneously, like his flesh couldn't make up its mind to burn or freeze. He felt the beam tug at him, not just at his barrier and body but everything that made up the man named Nestor. It _wanted_ him, like the beam had an insatiable appetite and he was the dinner option.

The death ray winked out and an expulsion of orange-green energy replaced it, his field rupturing where the beam had touched it. The force of the expulsion lifted him off the ground, throwing him backwards, into the remains of another cottage, slamming him into a support beam. What was left of his barrier field broke the impact, though not enough to spare him the jarring pounding from the support beam breaking off and falling on top of his chest.

The world swam dizzily around him, his limbs numb and unresponsive. Unconsciousness wasn't far away, and it felt like a welcome release to the agony of staying awake. But he held his eyes open nonetheless, what little coherency he had left telling him that Norom would be on him shortly to finish him off.

Not that he could stop him. Moving his pinky made his knee twitch. His nervous system was all messed up – hopefully not permanently.

That's when he spotted Norom standing nearby, looking at him with disappointment. Not "you failed me" disappointment, but the "I was robbed of a proper challenge" variety. He was probably debating the best means of disposing of Nestor.

Then a ghost from the past walked into view, standing next to the half-troll and carrying an unresponsive Saga in his arms, her mouth agape, her eyes closed, her arms dangling like loose branches. Nestor's traumatized heart accelerated upon recognizing Cragfist's scarred face. By the Fates, what was he doing here… and what was he doing with Saga?

"What are you doing?" Norom's disappointment went to disapproval.

"We're taking her with us," explained Cragfist, as if the issue was a no-brainer.

"Not the deal. Dispose of her."

Cragfist snarled defiantly. "I have not gotten my vengeance! I have not defeated her! The Alchemist promised me this above all else!"

With crowds of terrified voices sounding out across the settlement and growing louder, Norom didn't have time to argue. Nestor watched as he grudgingly nodded.

"No…" was all Nestor could manage before his voice seized up.

Norom heard him and gave Nestor a thin smile. "A pity, Outlander. That's the best workout I've had in years."

Nestor mustered every ounce of willpower in him, but his body's reserves were beyond taxed. For what it was worth, he did succeed in helplessly watching Norom and Cragfist carry away Saga before falling into blessed nothingness.


	14. Open Sea

**Chapter Thirteen: Open Sea**

Whether it had been the supernatural lightshow that had rained down from the sky in the distance, the panicked masses fleeing from the settlement, or the general smoky war-zone flavor hovering over Outcast Bay, Hiccup suspected something serious had transpired long before he arrived at the scene. And it had largely run its course by the time Toothless was circling above the vacant settlement, three pairs of eyes looking for their friends amidst the wreckage.

Having never been to Outcast Bay before, Hiccup had no idea how it was supposed to look on a normal day. Linebreaker had warned that the people of the settlement were not very conscientious about upkeep, so they shouldn't be surprised if the place resembles an inhabited garbage heap. But Hiccup couldn't image that people would want to live in a place where there was more rubble than housing, which was the current state of Outcast Bay.

No one had been at the rendezvous location. No one. Their absence disturbed Hiccup more than seeing the rain of death rays on the horizon.

"By the Gods, please tell me none of the others were underneath that," Astrid had said as they watched the sky go berserk. Hiccup had prayed as well.

The first hopeful sign of life occurred when Astrid spotted someone waving to them in the middle of a debris-choked street. It was Linebreaker, kneeling next to a supine figure. As they landed, the figure turned out to be Nestor, breathing but unconscious, a rolled-up shirt under his neck.

Toothless immediately went on guard-dragon duty, watching the skies especially, as Hiccup and Astrid approached their downed friend. Linebreaker gave them a forlorn smile, as if apologizing for the mess.

"Alive, but out of it," explained Linebreaker as Hiccup knelt next to him. "He must have tangled with someone truly unfriendly."

"Did you see what hit him?" asked Hiccup, adding half-a-cup of disturb to his already brimming supply. For a scrawny guy with only slightly more muscle mass than Hiccup, Nestor could absorb more punishment than thirty Vikings put together. Whatever took him down had to be extremely nasty.

"No idea, nor am I eager to learn the answer. I found him in the rubble after I lost track of Saga."

"Saga?" Astrid's concern was unmistakable.

Linebreaker sadly shrugged, then explained what little he knew about what had transpired. "She was rushing in here like a woman possessed. I tried following, but she disappeared on me and then I got sidetracked when the sky literally opened up." He closed his eyes as he visualized that terrifying event. "Prophets preserve me, but had I witnessed such a thing in my youth, I would have lost all desire to travel the world. I hid in the fresh remains of a cabin while the crowds ran for their lives. When the settlement cleared, I came out to resume my search." He hesitated, then added, "If she was still around, she would have found us by now."

"She wouldn't leave Nestor," said Astrid morosely. "She doesn't run from fights."

"Took her," spoke a weak voice, focusing everyone's attention on Nestor as first his eyelids fluttered, then finally got to a half-opened state. He looked into Hiccup's relieved face and repeated himself, his face deadly serious.

"Who did?" Hiccup asked.

"Cragfist"

The name meant nothing to Linebreaker, but it sent instant shivers through Hiccup and Astrid. They exchanged frightened stares.

"You sure it was him?" Hiccup asked.

"Busy at the time getting zapped by green light of death, but otherwise I'm sure," said Nestor, his voice a touch stronger now.

A growl from Toothless alerted the group to a new arrival. Thankfully it was Arc flying in from the north, dropping his Shroud as he came in for a landing. Already wearing a distressed expression, it deepened when he saw Nestor lying on the ground.

"My boy?" he asked, lowering his head down to within inches of Nestor's face.

Nestor gave him a slight grin. "Still here, Old Man." Arc seemed reassured by that, but his frown remained as he faced the group.

"I take it I'm not the only one to have a morning visitation from the Alchemist's forces," Arc remarked.

"He's… talking," said Linebreaker, pointing at Arc, his surprise evident. "The dragon is talking."

"Address me directly, please," said Arc with an irritated glare.

"Uh… apologies," said Linebreaker quickly. "Qiao wasn't jesting when she warned me about the unusual nature of you bunch."

"They took her," Arc declared.

"We know," said Hiccup. "Cragfist."

"Cragfist?" questioned Arc. "Saga's puerile brother? He wasn't present at Qiao's kidnapping."

"Qiao?" said Linebreaker. More alarmed looks circled the group.

"Clearly we need to discuss what has occurred today," said Arc, "but not here. Nestor, can you move?"

"Not well, but I'll fake it," he replied, slowly sitting up and wincing as he did so.

Arc nodded, then gave his full and intense attention to Linebreaker. "Young Captain Linebreaker, it is time you showed us your boat."

* * *

The ship in question occupied a private jut of land adjacent to the western cliffs, a proper dock allowing easy access to the vessel and an obstacle-free strait allowing easy access to the open sea. There were several of these "secure harbors" for those smugglers who really loved their ships, and a pair of well-paid guards patrolled the secure harbor section to ensure that only the ship owner got onboard. Linebreaker claimed that while it might cost extra for secure harbor, it was well worth the cost to not put your trust in Outcast Bay's honor system.

The guards had hightailed it with the rest of the settlement. No big shock. The ship was still present and in pristine shape, having escaped the Alchemist's demonstration unscathed. Most of the other ships were missing. A few sat in their moorings, listing or half-sunk.

Hiccup marveled at the quality of Linebreaker's vessel. Equal to a longboat-and-a-half in length, its sleek contours gave it a narrow profile to rival the slim nature of Viking watercraft. There were no designated places for oars or weapon emplacements. Its purpose was speed, not battle, and it was total sailing vessel – it lived or died by the wind. Barnacle-free, rot-free, and hole-free, it had more class in its sails than the entirety of Berk's longboat fleet.

The prow carving resembled an angry-looking dolphin leaping out of the water. There had to be a story over that particular design, but it was a story that could wait. The priority was on getting Linebreaker's ship underway.

The least frazzled of the group, Arc coolly took charge of operations, using himself and Toothless to fetch gear and needed supplies, dumping basket upon basket of goods unceremoniously on the ship's deck, goods secured from Linebreaker's private storage shack not far from the ship. Linebreaker told Arc what needed to be done and Arc got it done. No time for explanations or planning. _Get us out to sea now!_ had been Arc's demand, and no one was about to argue.

Hiccup and Astrid did most of the groundwork, unfurling sails and stocking goods below deck. Nestor had limped onboard and was given orders by Arc to take it easy when Nestor's self-diagnosis proved too optimistic. He could barely walk, much less carry supplies or man the rigging. He tried to make himself useful by sorting the gear on the deck, but even that was almost too much for him at times, having to take rest breaks after a few minutes of standing.

An hour passed uneventfully when Arc suddenly diverted from another delivery run and landed next to Linebreaker, who was checking over the supplies on the deck.

"Out of time," Arc declared. "We must launch."

"I get to say when we're ready to launch, not you," replied Linebreaker.

"I just observed a small fleet of warships moving in from the west. Undoubtedly ships from Riki Poka coming to investigate this morning's bout of unusual weather. If we go now, we won't be seen leaving, which means we won't be pursued."

"We are not yet ready," said Linebreaker, though his tone suggested that he, too, thought being pursued was an unwelcome prospect. "We have half the rations we'll need."

"Food will not be a problem. Those ships _will_ be if we tarry any further."

Unable to refute Arc's reasoning, Linebreaker ordered everyone to get ready to leave. Unfortunately they were still a few crewmen short for a quick departure, with only half the sails on the mast at the ready. The waters between them and open sea were congested with flotsam and refuse, barrels and crates and ship wreckage left over from the Alchemist's "demonstration" and the settlement's mass egress, which would slow them down even further.

Once again, Arc took control, ordering Hiccup to tie one of the ship's mooring lines to Toothless's saddle while the Hyperion picked up another rope and took off. Toothless quickly got the idea and took off rider-less, matching Arc's speed and direction. Linebreaker finished untying the last of the lines attaching his ship to the dock, going as far as to chop the last few free with his cutlass.

The ropes went tight, Arc and Toothless continuing to strain at the stationary vessel with everything they had, twisting like kites in the breeze. Slowly the ship inched out into the water until, with one synchronized yank, the two mighty dragons pulled the ship from its resting spot and into the bay proper, pitting their combined strength against the bulk of the ship and dragging it through the thin channel between the worst of the wreckage. In the places where the debris was too thick to bypass, a lightning bolt or fireball easily remedied the problem.

"And here I thought dragons were only good for burning up my sails and ripping up my linen," said Linebreaker, laughing heartily at the spectacle as he manned the ship's helm, doing his best to keep resistance to a minimum.

The ship soon cleared the security of the bay, bouncing with the writhing waves of the wild ocean. Hiccup and Astrid kept at the sails while Nestor did his best to tie off and tie down everything else. By the time they hit open sea, the main sails were unfurled and catching the heavy breeze, making the dragons' task far easier. But despite the added power of the unchained winds in the ship's sails, Arc and Toothless kept up their heroic efforts, guiding the vessel straight out into the thick of the Mediterranean.

The coast rapidly shrank behind them until it was reduced to a thin strip of brown and green in the distance, the ship rising and falling with the rhythm of the sea. Hiccup never did see the fleet coming in from Riki Poka, which was definitely a good thing.

Arc signaled that they were in the clear, the two dragons ceasing their efforts and landing on the ship, exhausted from their efforts. Hiccup and Astrid patted down Toothless for a job well done while Arc went right to the helm and stood before the captain, demanding his attention.

"South by southwest," Arc informed Linebreaker. "Our new heading."

Linebreaker eyed Arc suspiciously. "Does this take us to your special destination?"

Arc understood what the captain was getting at and shook his head. "No, Young Captain, this will take us to Qiao and Saga."

Linebreaker's face lightened, relieved to hear that they weren't abandoning Qiao. His skepticism remained, however. "You know anything about ship navigation?"

Arc smiled his toothy, confident grin. "I've ridden the skies long before you've sailed the seas. You pick up a thing or two about navigation after eleven centuries."

* * *

The elated mood the group had experienced after getting free and clear of Outcast Bay lasted until they had gathered around Linebreaker, who had to keep an eye on the rudder and their heading, to discuss the encounters and battles of the morning. Overall consensus was that the Alchemist was behind it all, for unknown reasons, and that she had been thoroughly prepared for them, thanks to Saga's sadistic brother.

Hiccup and Astrid sat on a pile of secured crates, Astrid holding her head in her hands while Hiccup draped an arm on her shoulders. Nestor found another pile of crates as a seat, some color having returned to his face but his expression severe and morose. Toothless sat on his haunches near Astrid, nudging her occasionally in a display of dragon sympathy. Arc sat near Nestor, keep a worried eye on Nestor but also on the ship's compass.

"I should have killed him when I had the chance," spoke Astrid, her voice despondent. "None of this would have happened otherwise."

"Sparing him was the right thing to do at the time, Astrid," reassured Hiccup. "No one could have foreseen him doing this… well, maybe Saga…"

"I'll kill him myself the next time I see him," said Nestor. "Bet I could pop his head off easily."

"Let us table talk of vengeance for now," said Arc. "The Alchemist demands our attention. Whatever her reasons, it is evident that Qiao was her primary target. We must find out why."

"Saga's my concern," said Astrid, looking up at Arc with a steely glare. "Or did you forget about her?"

"Young Astrid, I will never forget about her," reassured Arc. "But her kidnapping is easy to sort out. Revenge drives Cragfist, which is good for Saga."

"How's that good?" said Hiccup.

"Based on Nestor's testimony, Cragfist desires to humiliate his sister, not just kill her. That means she may likely be alive when we catch up to the Alchemist's vessel."

"Assuming she has a vessel to catch," said Nestor. "How do we know they're not flying around on those floaty thingies?"

"From what I observed, the flying platform was not outfitted for long-range travel. No cover, no supplies. I'd imagine that a larger vessel is required."

"I've heard many tales of a ship as big as five sperm whales tied together prowling the oceans as of late," offered Linebreaker. "Bear in mind, most of the tales are from inebriated sailors who've spent too much time at sea, but the stories suggest this ship is always surrounded in unearthly fog and never seen during the day. One version claims the ship is crewed by living skeletons, but I suspect that particular story got mixed up with another."

"Regardless, we'll know the truth when the time comes," said Arc.

"So when will that be?" said Hiccup. "You're acting like you already know where they are." Arc grinned lightly, prompting Hiccup to add, "You already know where they are?"

"I know their direction," admitted Arc. "Qiao's direction, to be precise."

"One of Arc's plans," said Nestor flatly. "That Trail Stone we took from Qiao? He tampered with it."

"Indeed," confirmed Arc. "Trail Stones forge a mental link between it and its user, much like myssteel. Anywhere the stone goes, the user can sense it and follow. Mental breadcrumbs, so to speak. Once the link is established, you have to deliberately sever it with a special ritual."

He held out his left claw-hand for everyone to see. Qiao's pesky little stone had been wrapped in olive-green netting and tied around his wrist. The netting camouflaged most of the stone, so it was easy to miss if it wasn't pointed out to you. "Either she doesn't know the ritual, or Qiao doesn't know that the link can be reversed. I can see the mystical energy emanations coming off the stone. They'll lead us straight to Qiao, no matter how far the Alchemist flees."

"I'd feel better about this if I could see what you saw," commented Linebreaker. "Any way to fix that?"

Arc shook his head. "My eyes are better than yours, I'm afraid. Nothing I can do about that."

"Just trust him, Captain," said Nestor. "It's easier that way."

"Well, one less problem to deal with," said Hiccup. "Now we just have to have a tremendously-great plan when we catch up to them."

"Right," said Nestor darkly. "One that takes into account myssteel weaponry, stone platforms that float in the air, suits of hovering rock, half-trolls with barrier fields, half-metal Night Furies that fire off death rays, and some kind of super weapon that rains down more of said death rays from the sky. Did I miss anything?"

"That's about it," said Hiccup glumly. "Thanks for summing it up."

"An actual half-troll," remarked Astrid, shaking her head in disbelief. "How do you even…?"

"You don't want to know," said Arc.

"Do you have any ideas, Arc?" asked Hiccup. "Any clue as to who this Alchemist is?"

Arc closed his eyes and went silent for a few moments, a sign of serious contemplation. It didn't last long, barely ten seconds. "Before the rise of the Artisan Empire and the rampant use of myssteel, there had once been a form of mystical talent known as True Alchemy, the manipulation of minerals for mystical use. I know a little of the basics – most Artisan and Ancestor magic was based off of it – but not much of the history."

"Alchemy," said Linebreaker. "Like the superstitious tales involving turning lead into gold."

"That is sham alchemy," countered Arc. "Con jobs by short-sighted humans. Lead has never led to gold. True Alchemy is real… and far more dangerous. Much of what we witnessed today can be attributed to True Alchemy. Admittedly, it is a very advanced form of True Alchemy and those… death rays, for lack of a better term, are unprecedented." A disturbing thought crossed his mind. "Latimar's memories of the end of his world… there are too many similarities."

"No kidding," said Nestor. "She's also not shy about using it. Cervantes was at least judicious about pulling out the heavy weapons."

"I fear she's trying to impress the locals," said Linebreaker. "Everyone at Outcast Bay was treating her like a queen. After today, everyone in Riki Poka will be talking about her, and word will spread across the coast faster than bad fashion trends."

"Why would she care about her reputation?" said Astrid. "With all her power, she could conquer the continent all by herself."

"I don't have answers," replied Arc. "I've never witnessed True Alchemy until now, and I fear that we have not seen the full extent of the Alchemist's resources."

"Take heart, my friends," said Linebreaker. "Amidst all this bad news, there is one sliver of good."

"Which is?" said Hiccup.

"We won the Harvest Festival fashion contest. Something about mechanical legs being the new 'brown' this year."

* * *

Any hope of a quick resolution to their chase died after the fourth day at sea. Two days after that, frustration moved in like an inconsiderate houseguest and made itself to home.

Physically, Nestor bounced back to health after the second morning, his barrier field back to full power. Mentally, his attitude had gone down the outhouse. The joking had died away and he took to standing at watch on his free time, ignoring conversation and even dinner half the time. Hiccup grew concerned for his friend, but he already had morale issues with Toothless and Astrid. He kept hoping Arc would pick up on Nestor's mood slippage, but the dragon was too focused on aerial searches and navigation to be bothered.

Toothless wanted to go flying ahead. Constantly. Three guesses why, and the first two don't matter. Hiccup had frequent arguments with the anxious dragon, forcing him to settle for scout missions and fishing trips instead. The female Night Fury, this Metal Fury, had really thrown him for a big loop. Hiccup couldn't tell if it was attraction, anger, or both.

It brought home how little Hiccup understood about Night Furies, especially on their natural habitat and numbers. The few times Hiccup had offered Toothless the right to go search for his old home or mating grounds had been rebuffed, Toothless shaking his head and nuzzling Hiccup and effectively saying _I'm home, don't need to go looking._ A nice gesture, but it smelled of a deeper tragedy, suggesting that Toothless didn't want to go back home because there was no home left to find.

If Metal Fury was the only other Night Fury out there… what a horrible cosmic joke that would turn out to be.

Angry Astrid raised her head for the first time in a long while. She worked hard to keep the ship in perfect working order, every sail smooth and fastened down, every rope knotted and tight. She yelled at the wind when it didn't blow sufficiently. She yelled at the waves if they got too choppy. She yelled up at the heavens, demanding that Odin come down and kick Alchemist butt and save Saga and Qiao before it was too late. He owed the group that much. After all, they were out to stop a premature Ragnarok.

She had two friends with their heads on the chopping block. Hiccup got that. Her anger wasn't helping matters.

With all this angst and anxiety swishing about the ship, Hiccup was glad to find excuses to get off the boat. Years of riding on an insanely fast Night Fury made boat travel infuriatingly slow, even on a ship as speedy as this one, and it only added to the general frustration.

Linebreaker was the relaxed one, humming sailor ditties or telling tales about experiencing near-death at the hands of a typhoon or an irate crew of mutineers. The sea had a calming effect on him, mellowing to the point where he looked asleep at the wheel. Yet their course never faltered once, and anytime something was askew on the Ship, he would ask someone to immediately correct it. Ship was almost an extension of him, like Toothless was an extension of Hiccup. Ship had an itch, Linebreaker scratched it.

Yes, the name of the ship was… Ship. Hiccup asked Linebreaker about the unimaginative name one day and the Captain's answer was this:

"I can't name Ship just anything, you understand. Every vessel has a personality, and a name is supposed to express that. When I truly understand Ship and what it wants from me, I will give it a name. Until then, I won't insult it with a placeholder name."

He also called the ship _it._ Not _she_, or even _he_. Odd, but that was Linebreaker for you.

Provisions were adequate for humans, but the heavily preserved rations were not very appealing to dragon palates. When they weren't scouting around for any rogue fogbanks or anything remotely strange, Hiccup, Toothless, and Arc formed a fishing team, Toothless armed with a fisher's net and Arc supplying the fish-zapping electricity. A perfect opportunity this would have been to test the fish-catching function of Hiccup's grapple launcher, had the launcher not been destroyed in their battles with Cervantes. By the sixth day at sea, Toothless and Arc had worked out the kinks in the process and were able to net a school of soon-to-be-dinner with minimal effort.

It was on one such run that Hiccup spotted a localized fogbank far to the south of their position, one that didn't move with the wind and hung out unattached from bigger patches of weather. One that was suspiciously gray and heavy for a low-lying cloud.

Hiccup had Toothless abort his fishing attempt and fly casually toward the fogbank. Getting in closer would be a snap, but if it really was the Alchemist's ship inside the mist, a close-in reconnaissance might tip her off that she was being followed. For all he knew, the Alchemist might have no trouble seeing through her all-concealing portable weather front.

"Looks the part, doesn't it?" observed Arc, who had quietly become Hiccup's wing-dragon while his attention was on the fogbank. "It's also in the right direction."

"I guess we're catching up finally," replied Hiccup. "None too soon, too."

"That, or they're slowing down."

"Does the distinction matter?"

"It may." Arc beckoned to Hiccup to head back to the vessel, the two dragons veering off in tight formation as Arc continued to talk. "I didn't want to say anything until now, not before I was absolutely convinced of my conclusion. But after six days of evidence, I fear my conclusion is correct."

"Will you stop being your usual mysterious self and just say it?" said Hiccup.

"If we were going to the Repository instead of pursuing Saga and Qiao, we would be using the exact same heading," revealed Arc.

Hiccup didn't know whether to take this as good or bad news. Considering how his life worked, he decided the latter was the safer option.

"So she might be stopping to visit an ancient tomb of forbidden secrets. That's just great," he grumpily commented. "You think the Alchemist is after what we're after… whatever we're actually after in the Repository?"

"We're after a clue that points us toward the nature of Saga's dire vision, Young Hiccup. Ironically, the Alchemist may have supplied us a clue already. If she has the power to call death from the sky, it's possible that such power must be tightly controlled lest it fall into dangerous hands… if it hasn't already. As for the Alchemist herself, I don't deign to guess what she's after. But it is safe to say that she is well and truly connected to the disaster we seek to prevent."

Hiccup thought about it. Arc hadn't shared how to get to the Repository with anyone, not even the rest of the team. The Alchemist couldn't have gotten the location from Qiao or Saga. The only way the Alchemist could know how to get there was if she already knew the location.

What did that make the Alchemist?

Needing to shift his mind away from uncomfortable musings, he gave Arc a half-smile. "You do have to credit Saga's visions for this one."

"She didn't predict this," the dragon countered. "Her visions faltered before we even knew of the Alchemist."

"But Saga got us where we needed to be, in the right place at the right time. Otherwise we wouldn't have run into Qiao and the Alchemist would have gone on her merry way and we'd be none the wiser."

Arc grumbled and rolled his eyes. "I suppose these matters are far too convenient to be a product of coincidence. I will have to give her credit when I next see her… assuming she still lives."

Hiccup let the conversation drop as they flew onward, his mind back on uncomfortable musings. He really could have gone all day without hearing that last reminder of grim reality.

* * *

Astrid learned a long time ago that it was easier to get through life if people thought that insulting or abusing you came with broken teeth and dislocated shoulders. Yelling also helped a lot – people weren't fond of taunting shrews that got up in your face. Most importantly, when someone did something wrong to you or to someone you cared about, you didn't let them walk away scot-free.

The people who had wronged her, the ones who had taken Saga and Qiao – she couldn't get at them. They were untouchable, and it was driving her crazy.

She needed to do something, so she got upset with everything and everyone else. She couldn't help herself… didn't want to help herself. Her usual routine of burning off excess stress in sparring matches with Saga had been disrupted and she had no substitute routine. Hiccup had fled the ship to escape her ranting, going out alongside Arc on longer and longer flights. This had led her to getting angry at the wind or the ocean or even the clouds over her head, which proved pretty unsatisfying as they didn't typically put up a fight… or if they did, it was a totally lopsided fight in their favor.

Linebreaker was off-limits. Never smart to yell at your captain. Nestor had also been off-limits for a time, but his constant moping around the boat and staring off into the horizon had gotten old. Six days too old.

About the time Hiccup was spying a mysterious mist in the distance, Astrid was doing her latest rounds on the boat, making sure every knot and rope knew who was boss. Nestor stood near a set of supply barrels containing fresh water, having checked them for leaks and contamination. He looked as happy as a lobster that knew it was three seconds away from a dunk in the cooking pot.

"Any problems?" she asked as she neared him.

"Where to start?" he answered.

"How about with the water supply?" she clarified.

"Oh." He shrugged indifferently. "We won't die of thirst."

"You think you could give me details?"

"Okay, fine. We won't die of thirst because I imagine we'll be dead long before the water in these barrels runs out. Better?"

"What is your deal, Nestor? You think you're the only one who cares about Saga? I'm worried about her just like you, but I'm not acting like a troll who's decided to hide under a bridge the rest of his life."

Nestor made a weird face. "You do realize that Norom…"

"_I'm keeping the phrase!_ My point is that the rest of us are doing what we need to do, not hiding from the world."

Nestor finally showed some emotion – in this case, anger, but not much of it. "I'm also not making everyone else's lives miserable with her misplaced antagonism."

Astrid narrowed her eyes, privately thanking Nestor for giving her a genuine excuse to get mad. "You know what? Forget it. There's the side of the ship. Jump off it any time you like."

She started to do a traditional storming-off move but only got as far as turning her back on Nestor before she felt the regret kick in. Maybe it was the look he'd given her, a totally resigned expression, or the mean-spirited suggestion she'd given him, but suddenly her anger didn't feel so justified.

_Splash!_

Her heart seized up upon hearing something large hit the water behind her. She whirled around, thinking the worst. But there was Nestor, standing where he had been, still wearing the same resigned expression, though now he seemed surprised by her abrupt turnaround. His eyes widened when he realized what she must have thought.

"Porpoise," he explained. "We have a pod playing in the ship's wake. One of them jumped."

Understandably skeptical that Nestor hadn't thrown something overboard to punish her for her remark, Astrid looked over the side. She quickly spotted the darting, angular form of a gray porpoise swimming alongside the ship, occasionally leaping out of the water in a moment of frolicking joy. She knew of porpoises but had never seen them play so near to humans. Then again, she'd never been on this fast of an ocean-going vessel. Longboats were too boring and too full of gruff Vikings to court the likes of porpoises.

"You actually thought I jumped?" said Nestor. "Wouldn't be looking forward to the swim back to the coast."

"Can you blame me for thinking it?" said Astrid, turning away from the underwater speed show and giving Nestor her full attention. "My less-than-understanding bedside manner aside, I am worried about you. We all are."

Nestor looked off to the horizon briefly, collecting his thoughts, then turned back to Astrid. "I couldn't help her, Astrid. I was right there and I couldn't stop Cragfist from taking her."

"None of us did very well that day, Nestor. The Alchemist took us all by surprise."

"You don't understand, Astrid. I fight monsters for a living and I've come out on top every time. But all the important battles, the ones important to me… I always lose those. My parents, my village… and now Saga."

"We haven't lost her yet."

"Astrid, what do you think the odds are? They have no reason to keep her alive, and Cragfist has every reason to want her dead. It's been six days… what are the odds?"

Astrid felt the same fear. What were the odds, really? Yet her face had a smile for Nestor. "If anyone in this world can hold out against Cragfist and the Alchemist until we arrive, it's Saga. You notice how things tend to happen around her, don't you?" Nestor hesitated, then nodded. It was hard to ignore that particular quality about Saga. "I plan on kicking some Alchemist butt, and any other butts that get between me and Saga… and Qiao, but you know what I mean. It will go a lot easier if that guy who fights monsters for a living is standing with me, instead of sitting around on this ship like a cranky old man."

Nestor didn't say anything for a time, but his face slowly softened and grew livelier. He chuckled lightly. "I guess I have been overdosing on the self-pity. Tell you what? For Saga's sake, I'll toss my depression overboard and piggyback on your optimism. In exchange… could you lighten up yourself?"

"I haven't been _that_ bad, have I?" asked Astrid.

"Hiccup has to go fishing thirty miles away from the boat because you keep frightening our dinner away."

It was Astrid's turn to chuckle. "Deal." They shook hands for the sake of formality.

"Hiccup always said you were good at pep talks," said Nestor. "He even joked about how he might need one so he's not too jittery when he proposes…"

Nestor didn't quite catch himself in time and Astrid heard the word _proposes_ slip out of his mouth. She gave Nestor a suitably eager and expectant stare. "Proposes?"

Nestor knew he'd done it, his expression saying as much. "…Proposes… that he sets up a smithy in Riki Poka. Great location, lots of customers. Big move. You two should talk it over, but don't be surprised if he acts like he has no idea what I'm referring to. Oh, look, something important and unusual may be on the horizon. I should look at it very intensely and without further talking. Bye."

Nestor scrammed, fast-walking to the bow of the ship and pretending to be looking at that important-something. Astrid didn't bother to follow. She really didn't need to torment Nestor over his blunder.

_Proposes_.

Nothing much had changed in her situation. Saga and Qiao were still in danger, and the world still teetered towards Ragnarok. But Astrid suddenly found that staying frustrated was more of a chore than it was worth.


	15. The Conversation

**Chapter Fourteen: The Conversation **

Saga realized she was still alive due to the fact that her back felt like a solid knot of aching muscle. This was not the afterlife, for the afterlife couldn't possibly have such discomfort. She had not found Valhalla yet, for which she was thankful. But her gratitude at remaining alive lasted until she sat up and remembered the final minutes of her recent ordeal, as well as taking in her new surroundings.

The cold unyielding floor she found herself lying upon made for a poor bed during her time unconscious. A cramped prison cell was now her new home, three walls of stone bars connected to a stone wall with no windows. A steel door with a traditional lock took up much of one wall, the steel melded to the stone with care and craftsmanship. A wooden bowl of water sat nearby, the water looking and smelling clean. Assuming that her captors wouldn't go to the trouble of keeping her alive only to poison her, she satisfied the demands of her parched throat with a long drink.

She took in the rest of the room as she drank, seeing the three other holding cells and a set of stairs that led downward. Not a window in sight, illumination supplied by mysterious crystals in the ceiling that glowed pale white, casting the room in an eerie shadowy state. She had no context of her location. This could be a castle's dungeon or a mine's bottom level – or it could be none of the above. Probably not a mine, as the air remained fresh and had a salty quality that suggested an ocean location.

Predictably, her dagger belt was missing, and it didn't appear to be hanging in the room on an easily accessible hook. That would have been convenient.

At least her mind was clear once more. The draining sensation that had put her down was gone. Now that she knew what had sparked it, she could place blame where it needed to be placed – with Cragfist and his new master.

"Morning… I think," spoke a familiar voice from an adjacent cell. "It's hard to tell in here."

Qiao sat cross-legged, facing Saga and giving her a little wave of greeting. Sullen but uninjured, she wore an apologetic look that suggested she knew plenty about their predicament. A plate of bones and a bowl of water were her only possessions.

"If you're wondering how long you've been out," said Qiao, "I'd guess half-a-day, maybe more. And if you're wondering where we are, welcome to the _Zenith_, flagship of Alche's private army."

While it was going too far to say that Qiao's face was welcome, Saga did feel relieved to see her. Standing up and stretching her sore body, Saga gripped the stone bars of her cage and tested them. They were indeed as solid as they looked and impossible to budge.

"Alche?" asked Saga, trying the steel section and finding it just as impossible.

"Cute nickname, huh?" said Qiao. "I gave that to her when I was, like, three. I'm surprised she went with it."

"So you know her well."

Qiao made a guilty-sounding groan. "I _knew_ her well, back before I left her four years ago. None of this is familiar to me. She had ideas, she always had ideas…"

"Qiao, this not the time for lies."

"You're right, it's not," Qiao shot back. "Seriously, you think I like having my favorite bow shredded and a foul-smelling rag stuffed in my face?" She saw Saga's confusion and added, "Right, you weren't there. Trust me, if I knew what this was about, I'd have told you. What's more confusing is why they took _you._"

"My brother," stated Saga unhappily, pacing the cell in the hopes of finding a weak spot or a potential tool or weapon. "Cragfist."

"Is that the Norse guy with the chip on his shoulder? Almost didn't see the family resemblance. Why does he hate you?"

"I cost him his position of leadership amongst our people. He took it personally."

"Heh, I bet he did."

The cell was well kept and well maintained. Nothing looked useful. Saga sighed and kept pacing, mostly for the exercise. "What _can_ you tell me about our situation?'

"Well, that Kong guy threw me in here with a plate of chicken and a warning that the Alchemist would be coming to see me soon. That was hours ago. Guess she got sidetracked…"

Echoes of footsteps rang out from the stairway, causing Qiao and Saga to silence and listen. Within moments, two figures emerged from up the stairway. The first figure was a brown-haired woman in scholarly clothes. Her companion Saga recognized as the Asian man with the myssteel swords that had attacked her in the Dancing Clam.

They cleared the stairs and stood before Saga's cell, the woman studying Saga as if she was more a curiosity that a prisoner. This had to be the Alchemist.

"Glad to see you awake, Seer," said the Alchemist. "I wasn't sure if you'd wake up after that shock to your system. I bet this is all a real shock to someone used to seeing the world ahead of everyone else. In fact, I bet you've been having problems for some time now, right, and it's gotten worse?"

Saga didn't say anything. The Alchemist let out a knowing laugh. "Be relieved, Seer, you're not losing your touch. I know about your talent, thanks to your brother. Couldn't have one of your visions spoil things, could I? On our way to Riki Poka, I performed a few test firings of the Catalysizer in order to release the Scouring and muddy the psychic waters a bit. The Scouring plays havoc with psychic types, something to do with how the portal projects cross-dimensional energies that mess with the synapses of those few with the Seer ability. They can feel the effects from hundreds of miles away, and it gets worse the closer they are. I've never had the chance to study the effect at point-blank range. So few genuine Seers out there."

"The Scouring?" said Saga. "The thing from the sky? You know not what you are playing with."

"I know _exactly _what I'm playing with. I'd love to debate this further with you, but unfortunately I did make a deal with your brother and while I'm not thrilled that he took you aboard my ship, I'm so happy about yesterday that I'll let it go."

Another series of footfalls signaled the arrival of another crewmember. This time it was Saga's turn to be alarmed as Cragfist climbed the stairs to the room and stood in the background, a darkly satisfied grin saying everything that needed to be said.

"Cragfist here has been patient and deserves his reward," said the Alchemist. "If you'll excuse me, I'll just collect Qiao and leave the two of you to sort things out."

"Alche, you can't do that," said Qiao, picking up on what Cragfist's idea of "sorting" entailed.

The Alchemist pivoted and gave Qiao the stink eye. "Qiao, you stopped having a say in what I can and can't do years ago. We're overdue for a…"

In the blink of an eye, Qiao produced a chicken bone from out of her shirtsleeve and placed it against her own throat, pressing its jagged edge near her carotid artery. Kong reflectively went for his swords, thinking it a trick or an attack, but the Alchemist grabbed his hands and directed him to keep his swords in their sheaths.

"This is what you get for letting me stay bored for too long," said Qiao. "Had a chance to make a shiv, and it's not the only one I have."

"Qiao, you can't expect me to believe you're capable of killing yourself," taunted the Alchemist.

"You've changed a lot in four years," countered Qiao. "So have I. You need me alive for something, and I'm betting it's not for singing a duet."

"People don't change, Qiao. They just reveal their hidden qualities. They adapt. You are a survivor, Qiao. You won't do it."

"Ah, that old familiar arrogance," Qiao shot back. "But let's say that I am the same as you remember. Then you know what I'm good at. Given enough time, you know I will escape and cause trouble. Maybe I'll get off this boat and you'll never see me again. Maybe one of your goons kills me by accident. All sorts of things can go wrong."

The Alchemist sighed in exasperation. "Is this going somewhere, Qiao?"

"Saga lives, or I won't. No one touches her, or I'll be the biggest pain in the butt you've ever experienced. And when it's time for me to do whatever you need me to do, you give her a ride back to the coast and set her free. You do all that, and I'll be the nicest prisoner you've ever had."

Saga couldn't hide the rush of surprise flooding over her. She saw Cragfist's smile turn upside down. Kong was unmoved while the Alchemist bit her lip uncertainly. She hadn't expected this kind of behavior from Qiao, apparently.

Then the Alchemist laughed, more amused than upset at the ultimatum. "Very well, Qiao. Your friend here means little to me and if her life means that much to you…"

"WHAT?" yelled an enraged Cragfist. Any further words of derision were cut off when the Alchemist pointed a warning finger at him and Kong gave him a deadly stare.

"Keep in mind, Qiao," stated the Alchemist, "that the Seer's survival is now in your hands. Should you give me any trouble, I will quickly reinstate her quality time with Cragfist. I will return shortly after I have smoothed over matters."

She turned to Cragfist and ordered him to come with her for a quick chat about their "new deal." Angrily, Saga's brother stormed out of the room, followed by Kong and the Alchemist.

"You did not have to do that," remarked Saga, still floored by Qiao's actions.

"Yeah, I did," answered Qiao quietly, lowering the weaponized chicken bone from her neck. "You're only in this mess because of me."

"Cragfist would have found a way to get at me. He still might."

"No, he won't. Alche will make sure of that… at least until she doesn't need me any longer."

From her other shirtsleeve, Qiao pulled a long, thin chicken bone and chucked it through the bars of Saga's cell. Saga bent down and grabbed it, hiding it in the confines of her outfit. She didn't have to be told what to use it for.

"I was saving it for me," explained Qiao. "But you're going to need it more."

* * *

Kong's forearm might have been half the size of Cragfist's beefy arms, but it had more than enough strength to pin the Norseman's throat against the wall. Kong's freehand held one of his swords, poised for a quick thrust into Cragfist's belly.

The Alchemist stood off to the side, her face passionless. Cragfist realized that she could very easily order his death right here and no one would question her decision. He struggled enough to keep from suffocating in Kong's grip, but didn't go for his own weapon. His hands would never have gotten there with all ten digits in place.

"This… isn't… fair…" wheezed Cragfist. "… Deal…"

"The 'deal' is dependent on whether or not it interferes with my plans," declared the Alchemist. "You had your chance to kill your sister yesterday. You chose not to, because you were not satisfied with just killing her. That is entirely your fault. I wasn't the one who ruined the deal in the first place."

She came closer, putting her face to within an inch of Cragfist. "You will not harm the Seer until I give you permission. Should you go anywhere near her, should I see you within ten feet of the brig, Kong here will remove your hands and feet and dump you overboard for the fishes."

Point made, she had Kong let him go. Kong gestured with his sword for Cragfist to walk away. Cragfist wisely did so.

With no recourse and no allies to speak up, Cragfist walked around the deck of the _Zenith_ for hours, seething quietly, ignoring the bell for chow time and rest time. No one dared approach him. No one really cared.

Under the fog-shrouded stars, staring off into the murky waters flowing past the ship, Cragfist came to realize how little power he really had. The Alchemist treated him like a favorite dog, on par with that Night Fury aberration she kept as an aerial bodyguard. She had given him a fancy sword, but it had been useless against his sister. She would never make him a lieutenant; she would never give him access to real power.

He would never get his revenge while under the thumb of the Alchemist.

For no real sensible reason, his thoughts turned to the urchin-like object in the hold, the artifact that had stymied the Alchemist. The artifact that had seemed like a big deal until Qiao came along. The Alchemist's interest in it had bordered on obsession.

It was still down there, holding onto its secrets. If he could crack it open, who knew what he'd find?

He had no reason to believe he'd be any more successful, yet he couldn't stop himself as he neared the stairs down to the hold. Alone and unwatched, a brief mental wrestling match ensued where his desire to gain leverage over the Alchemist fought with his rationality. It was more curb-stomp battle than contest, and he soon descended the stairs into the dank darkness below.

* * *

Freed from her cage, Qiao peacefully walked single-file between Kong and Alche through the stone hallways of the ship, receiving curious looks from the crew. They probably wondered why she was so important to their master and commander. Qiao wondered the same thing.

It got even more confounding when she reached the deck, sea wind slapping her face in a refreshing-yet-chilly way. She hadn't known what to expect, but the idea of a fancy dinner had entirely escaped her thoughts.

_Fancy_ might have been too strong a word for the round table set up near the raised entrance to the captain's quarters at the rear of the ship, nestled in a corner to allow shelter from the wind. But it was certainly not causal dining, considering the gleaming silverware and silk napkins and artful tablecloth. The centerpiece was a glass lantern equipped with a teardrop-shaped crystal that emitted a mellow orange light that kept the foggy night at bay. A fake lantern, one that didn't need oil or wicks. Table for two, party of Alche and Qiao.

Kong finished escorting the Alchemist and Qiao to the table, then walked away into a shadowy recess of the ship. He was still out there, Qiao was certain of that. There'd be no privacy tonight.

Their dinner was already there, concealed by silver lids. Alche motioned for Qiao to dig in. Still famished after her chicken scrapings, Qiao removed the lid and found a steaming bowl of vegetable stew underneath. Qiao resisted laughing – her favorite dish from their days together in the Safe House. Alche didn't miss a thing, did she?

The Alchemist uncovered her own steaming soup bowl and began to dig in. "Please, don't stand on ceremony. The squash in the soup is local, and said to be the best in the continent."

Qiao sampled a spoonful, again resisting a smile. The near-liquefied squash was good. But instead of eating more, she lowered her spoon and gave the Alchemist a hard stare. This dinner theater didn't mesh with the prison-cell treatment or the kidnapping, and alarm bells were going off loudly in her mind.

"What is this, Alche?" she said.

"Soup." The Alchemist's plain response made it hard to tell if she was being honest or flippant.

"Stop playing games and get to the point."

Qiao must have said it too harshly for somebody's liking, and that somebody suddenly materialized before her out of thin air, a scant five feet from their table. Qiao jumped out of her seat as the half-metal Night Fury glowered at her, snarling a threat.

"Dark Star, be calm," the Alchemist ordered patiently. "She knows better than to try anything."

"Dark Star?" Qiao looked at the Night Fury carefully. Though the invisibility and the poor light had thrown her, it truly was the dragon that had kept them company in the Safe House… and she clearly hadn't gotten any friendlier.

"You've… made some improvements since last I saw her," said Qiao, sitting back down.

"A few." Alche waved at Dark Star to back off, which the dragon did reluctantly. She sauntered away to a new spot and sat down on her belly, her nightmare-inducing red eye firmly set on Qiao.

"I see dinner conversation is going to be sparse," said the Alchemist, "so let's follow your suggestion." She gulped down another spoonful of soup and then lowered her utensil to the table, fixing Qiao with a glare as intimidating as Dark Star's artificial eye. "Kong informs me that you claimed we had an 'understanding.' That would imply we actually discussed matters before you left."

"I was smoke-screening your errand boy," said Qiao. "Best way to rattle your opponent is to make them second-guess themselves."

"Kong doesn't second-guess. But since we never had the conversation, let's do it now." She leaned back in her chair. "Why, Qiao?"

"I wondered when you'd ask that." Qiao knew what she meant – it was the question she'd have asked had their roles been reversed. "If I tell you why I left, will it really change anything?"

"No," admitted Alche. "But I still think I deserve an answer."

Qiao sighed. She actually agreed. Regardless of the dark future ahead of them, Qiao had always felt guilty over her decision. Even if her confession had no effect on Alche's heart, Qiao couldn't see the harm. It might even help in some way.

"When people ask me how old I am, I never know what to tell them," Qiao began. "I'm, what, eighteen, nineteen years old? Neither or us know for sure. I was a baby when you found me alone on a refugee ship, a lucky survivor of the Artisan Cataclysm, as you called it, and I didn't come with any papers.

"But if people ask how long I've been around… that's a different story, isn't it? I remember seeing Europe covered in ice fifteen thousand years ago. I remember how much it sucked to live in the Bronze Age, or that Socrates was a very smart beggar, or that Stonehenge is actually a burial site for the pet raccoons of druids. I know these things first hand. I was _there_."

"You've seen things few others have ever witnessed," pointed out Alche. "This is a bad thing?"

"No, but it wasn't a life, Alche," said Qiao. "You didn't _want_ us to have a life, because then you'd have to admit that it was all gone. You'd have to face reality – the Empire was no more."

"I faced reality every day, Qiao. I knew what was out there. Barbarians without a shred of decency or enlightenment. That was what humanity had become. Is that the kind of world you want to live in?"

"No, and for a long time I agreed with you. That's why I kept silent each and every time you decided that we should 'skip ahead,' roll the dice and hope that the next century or millennium gave us a world with better prospects. But no kingdom or empire was ever good enough for you, and after twenty thousand years of trying, I realized nothing would ever _be_ good enough for you."

"So you left… without even saying goodbye." The disappointment in the Alchemist's voice was almost heartbreaking. It almost got to her, made her long for the old days in the Safe House, where things were simplistic and easy. No lonesome roads to travel, no backstabbing allies or merciless thugs to deal with. Just her and Alche and even Dark Star, safely tucked away in their personal hideaway.

Qiao had to remind herself that she did have her reasons.

"I saw your notebooks, Alche."

The Alchemist raised an eyebrow. "You did what?"

"I snuck into your private office at the Safe House one time, right before our last Time Skip. I saw your designs. For someone who claims to want a better world, you had an awful lot of weapon designs thought out."

"A hobby."

Qiao gave her a disbelieving look. "Really?"

Alche saw that denial wasn't going to work with Qiao. "Fine. Yes, I was preparing for the day that we went out into the world. Those designs were for our protection."

"Right. I see you're doing a lot of protecting right now." Qiao's gesture took in the entire ship. "It's a great ship, but I'll be the wife of an elephant seal before I believe this thing was designed for protection. You've always been hard, Alche. Hard in thought and hard in the soul. I've known that about you for a long time. But when you started turning your research into weaponry, you were heading down a path I could no longer follow."

"This path of crime you lead is somehow better? You have such spirit, Qiao, yet you chose to waste it with the dregs of society."

"It's… not the route I wanted to go. Life's harder than it is in the stories."

"Yes, it is. Stories like to tell us that good wins over evil, that we all find love, that everything turns out okay eventually. That's why such stories are called _fiction_. I had hoped you had taken the same lessons from history as I had."

"I saw snippets, Alche. You never let me see the whole picture. I needed to experience _life_, not see it from a safe distance. I followed you out of gratitude, and I will always be grateful for what you've done for me. But I needed my own life, and you would never have understood."

"Your way of showing gratitude is lacking, considering how you abandoned me without a word."

"How long did it take you to figure out I was gone?" Qiao replied. "Two days, three, a week?" Alche didn't answer, unless the tinge of guilt in her face counted. "When you weren't making repairs to Dark Star, you spent the rest of your time in your study, dreaming up Gods-know-what. We stopped exploring the world. You weren't even bothering to do chores. I was the one bringing vegetable soup to you, remember?"

Qiao shook her head ruefully. "Did I abandon you? Yes. But I wasn't the one who pulled away first."

Silence fell over the table, neither woman engaging in eye contact or eating their soup. Dark Star cocked her head, confused by the lack of sound or motion coming from her master and former master.

"Perhaps our parting was inevitable, then," said the Alchemist, breaking the silence. "Perhaps it was even necessary. Your departure gave me a push in the right direction."

"This is the right direction? Why didn't you just do another Time Skip and leave me behind?"

"The thought did occur to me, Qiao. But when I realized that you truly did want a life out in the world, the world we had and not the one I desired, I then realized I wanted the same thing, that I had been chasing a dead dream all this time. Now, I have a far livelier dream to pursue."

"What, rule the Seven Seas?"

For the first time during the whole dinner conversation, the Alchemist smiled. "I'm pursuing what I've always pursued, Qiao: a better world. But this time, I'm _making _it happen."

* * *

"Then she went on and on about personal choice, blah, blah, blah. I've heard it a thousand times already," editorialized Qiao. "Same old Alche, ranting about the failures of the human race. How's the soup, by the way?"

"Cold," said Saga, though they didn't stop her from drinking it straight from the bowl. Qiao had asked that her friend get some nourishment. Leftover vegetable soup was what there was.

Back in her cage, Qiao sat facing Saga with a worn blanket wrapped around her. Saga had been given one as well. They smelled like they'd been used to dry off a hundred sweaty sailors, but they did keep the chill away.

"Any hints about her plans?" asked Saga, finishing off her meal.

"No. Cagey one, Alche, even with me. She must have read a tome covering how to avoid villainous expositions."

"But you factor into her plans somehow."

"Obviously. She said we have five more days of sailing to do. That's probably how long we have to live."

"Why would she kill you? She clearly cares for you."

"I don't think she _wants_ to kill me, but she acted like it was our final meal together."

"Your foster mother reminds me of my father. Apparently parental issues are a common theme amongst our group."

Saga absently gazed at the glow crystals on the ceiling as her thoughts went to the others. Nestor, Astrid, Hiccup, Toothless, Arc – she had no idea of their whereabouts… or their condition. The Alchemist had planned her attacks well, and it distressed her to think they could have fallen in battle.

Hope: that old Hyperion vow. All she had was hope. She would rather have her daggers.

"How did the Alchemist gain such power?" she asked, mostly to distract her thoughts.

"If you want the technical details, she'd have to tell you," said Qiao. "I asked her once and the answer went _whoof_!" She swiped a hand above her head as a visual aid. "What I do understand is that she was away from the Artisan Empire for many years, working on her research into inter-dimensional folding."

"What?"

"Ah… well, best way I can describe it is that there are many different worlds out there, some flying around all those stars in the sky and some that you only get by crossing the Fold, an energy field that divides different realities from each other."

Saga stared at Qiao uncomprehendingly. "Again… what?"

"Magic, okay? You use special magic to reach these worlds. Very rare, very dangerous, and very hard to get right. Alche's been working on it for two centuries of her life, and she's still fiddling with it."

"Two centuries? She… looks pretty good."

"Put it this way – she hasn't aged a day since I can remember. The Artisans must have had great health care. Anyway, she learned how to harness part of the Fold as an energy source, channeling it into all those crystals and gems you see around here. She's gotten good at it. She also knows how to make myssteel, but she can't make much of it, or _do_ much with it. All the real myssteel smiths died when the Empire exploded and it takes sophisticated machines to make myssteel in bulk. She makes weapons from time to time, but that's it. She prefers alchemy over the flashier stuff."

"What of the dragon?"

"Yeah, her." Qiao frowned, not liking this particular memory-lane trip. "She came into my life when I was learning how to read, close to fifteen thousand years ago. Alche found her hiding in a cave above the Safe House, mauled and practically dead. She'd crawled there to die, like any animal would do. Most people would have put her out of her misery. Alche decided to make her a project."

"Insanity."

"I don't know about that. Dark Star doesn't seem to mind living with less than thirty percent of her old body. Biosteel is surprisingly good stuff."

"Biosteel?"

"A myssteel variant. Alche had some of it lying around the Safe House, but she doesn't know how to make it. You can build artificial limbs from it and they work just like the real thing. Like I said, the Artisans had great health care."

"They seem as powerful as the Gods themselves," admired Saga. "Suicidal gods, perhaps." She gave Qiao a quizzical look. "Are you one of them?"

"Honesty, I don't know. The ship Alche found me in was fleeing the disaster zone that used to be the Artisan Empire. I don't know if that makes me Artisan or not." Qiao rapped her fingers on the stone floor inattentively as she sorted her memories. "Hard to believe she put all this together in four years… unless she's been cheating."

"The Time Skip you've mentioned?"

"More like the reverse," explained Qiao. "She rigged the Safe House with a dimensional thingamabob that can slow down or speed up time inside the structure. That's how we skipped over twenty thousand years of human history. We'd stop to smell the roses, usually for a few days, occasionally for a few months. We'd go out and explore the world, see if it was worth living in. The answer was always no. Then it was back to the Safe House for another Time Skip. But Alche said she could also speed up time inside the Safe House if she wanted to. It's been four years for me, but it might've been a lot longer for her."

"She must have been watching you all this time," reasoned Saga. "How else could she have found you so easily?"

Qiao thought about it for a time, then groaned as the answer hit her. "The Trail Stone. Darn it, that thing's getting me into trouble left, right, and center."

"The stone Arc confiscated from you?"

"My mind is connected to it. Still is, because I don't know how to sever the link. I think Alche was able to detect the link and follow it. Makes sense – she made the thing." Qiao suddenly adopted a curious look. "Saga, how smart is Arc?"

"Very, as he likes to point out constantly."

"Is it possible that he took my stone not to punish me, but to use it to find me later? He had a lot of questions about my past, and I was shocked he let the subject drop like he did."

Saga thought about it, then shrugged helplessly. "Possible."

Qiao smiled, for once glad that a would-be friend wasn't as honest as he acted. "Then maybe we're not in as much trouble as I think we are."

* * *

The giant stone sea urchin-relic remained where Cragfist had last seen it, behind the tawdry curtains used to cordon it off. Forgotten. Unguarded.

He watched it from the darkness, staying beyond the glow-crystal's light in the center of the hold, waiting for a rocking motion or wiggle. This thing had life to it, that he believed. Not the same kind of life as that monstrous Monolith he'd watched break out the Isle of Frost, but life of a sorts.

He needed to connect with the thing inside somehow. Otherwise this idea of his was stillborn.

"Can you hear me?" he whispered. "If you can hear me, do something."

It didn't.

He repeated his request several times, his words growing more hostile and colorful with each repeat. Even with a healthy pause between requests, the Recorder refused to cooperate.

"I know you're in there," he stated, abandoning the whispering and going all out. "The Alchemist wouldn't be talking to you if there wasn't something to talk to. You moved for me, not for her. Do you hate her? That's fine with me. I hate her, too. Enemy of my enemy, perhaps?"

This time, Cragfist thought he saw the artifact shift slightly. Might have been a trick of the light or wishful thinking, though.

"I'm tired of the way things are. I need something to use against her, a bargaining chip. You have something I can use, I know it. Do this for me, grant me the leverage I need, and whatever wish you desire I will fulfill."

He felt patently ridiculous. Here he was, negotiating with an alien sea urchin that hadn't made a sound. Truly he was a desperate man to do such…

A crack formed in the Recorder's dark surface, splitting up from its center and forking into a pair of zigzagging rents. The cracks then formed a jagged circle at belly-button height, roughly a foot across. The outer skin popped out of the crack, as if pushed out from inside, crumbling into black sand upon impact with the floor.

Cragfist gaped at the unmistakable response, and at the inner skin that had been hiding under the black rock. Silver-hued metal resided within, a soft pulse of beckoning light emanating from the exposed steel.

_This can't be smart_, thought Cragfist. Yet he couldn't turn back now, could he? The Recorder had heard him and was willing to deal. Even if a multi-fanged demon lived within the inner sphere, the bargain it could provide him _had_ to be better than what he had now.

The light beckoned him to come closer. It was summoning him. Cragfist obeyed.

Acting on instinct, he closed his eyes and placed his right hand on the metal circle. The steel proved warm to the touch, almost pleasantly so. His fingers vibrated in sync with the light. Definitely something alive in there.

_Power._

He heard the word in his head, and he knew where it had come from. The Recorder had its own way of talking after all.

"That's what I want, yes," he answered aloud.

_No, power for me_, it replied. _Energy. Too weak to give you assistance, so you must give me power first._

"Do I look like a deviltry user? I don't have any way of doing that."

_Crystals and stones, like those in the ceiling. They are everywhere. Collect small ones that will not be quickly missed. Collect many of them._

The voice had an eerily familiar ring to it, but Cragfist couldn't place it. That, plus the demanding request, made him suspicious. "If I do this, how do I know you'll help me?"

_Enemy of my enemy_, it said. _I help you by removing __**her**_. _Best you get started. In five days, she will get to where she needs to go, and she will not need me… or you._

It found the right fear, indeed. Cragfist already suspected his lifespan was measured in days. If he sat back and obeyed the Alchemist, she would eventually get rid of him. While he had no reason to trust the words of a sea-dwelling artifact, he had less reason to trust the Alchemist.

"If you trick me," he said, "I'll dump you back in the ocean myself."

_No tricks. I need you, you need me. A partnership._

Cragfist groaned at the mention of the word. Cragfist, warrior prince of the Gunnarr, reduced to a partnership with a talking rock. The Gods weren't done with the mockery just yet.


	16. The Sea Is Being Weird

**Chapter Fifteen: The Sea Is Being Weird**

"Well, we've found them," said Hiccup. "Who wants to lead the suicide attack?"

The snide observation might have been unnecessarily negative, but no one offered a positive alternative. Indeed, they had found the Alchemist's vessel, six days into their pursuit. A large vessel hugged the horizon where the gray fogbank used to be, the mist having evaporated or faded away in mere minutes. The massive ship that replaced it looked fairly innocuous from this distance, but so did a mattress that had its stuffing replaced with razor blades.

They assumed the ship was hers. Such an awkward, mast-less ship, defying the laws of nature with its woodless composition and largeness? No normal pirate would captain that ship. No wonder it traveled under the cover of a fogbank all the time.

The group stood together on Ship's forward deck, the human members passing around Linebreaker's spyglass for a closer look. The Alchemist's ship had come to a halt out in the middle of nowhere, but at least they had found a nice patch of sea with nary a cloud in the sky, much less any drenching storms. It was a little coincidentally nice, but as Arc liked to say, the world ran on coincidences more than it did on plans and purpose.

Hiccup was used to being outgunned, outnumbered, and outsized, so his anxiety had nothing to do with the size of the Alchemist's vessel. It was more to do with the thorough trouncing they'd received the first time they encountered her forces.

"Safe to assume they've seen us," said Linebreaker. "With weather this clear, we'll stand out like a burst seam on a regulation uniform."

"We still have a few magic tricks," said Arc.

"So do they," said Astrid. "For all we know, Metal Fury could be right over us and about to fry us."

"I doubt that," said Arc.

"Why do you doubt that?" Astrid replied. "I was there. Total invisibility."

"To human eyes, perhaps." Arc gestured at his reptilian orbs. "A Hyperion's eyes can adjust to different light spectrums, and now I know what to look for. There's a reason why we use Shrouding and not full invisibility. Shrouding uses a rotating set of different wavelengths whereas…"

"Explanations later, Old Man," interrupted Nestor, a fiery twinkle in his eye. "Right now, I think a Shrouding party is in order."

"As much as I welcome your renewed enthusiasm," said Arc, "can we avoid rash behavior? Most likely they are watching for our distortion patterns. We will need a diversion as well."

Not missing a beat, Nestor turned to Hiccup. "Hey, Hiccup, remember how I got to be the diversion on the Isle of Frost while you and Toothless swooped in to kick Gunnarr butt?"

"Hard not to," said Hiccup. "You remind me every day. 'Gee, Hiccup, don't forget that you get to be the diversion next time we need one.' Was it traumatizing or something?"

"Well, _irritating_ is more the word…"

"My friends, the sea is being weird," pointed out Linebreaker.

The discussion ceased as the others looked out upon the previously calm ocean, at a spot close to halfway to the Alchemist's vessel. The water began to churn in a counter-clockwise manner, as if a whirlpool was forming out in the deep ocean. It widened and deepened, first twenty feet wide, then thirty, fifty, a hundred…

Then the bottom fell out, the ocean giving birth to a maelstrom. The spinning sides of the whirlpool expanded, shoving the surface water away from its center, forming a bulging wave that threatened to become angry and tidal.

Linebreaker swore excitedly in a foreign tongue as he raced for the helm, Hiccup and Astrid running for Toothless while Nestor stood by Arc. The oncoming wave rose to a twenty-foot height, easily dwarfing the ship. It stretched on and on for miles, an unavoidable and unmerciful force of nature.

"Captain, get on!" said Arc, lowering his body to allow Nestor access.

"It's my ship, dragon!" replied Linebreaker. "The sea can't have her!" He shoved the rudder hard to the left, pointing the ship's bow right at the approaching wave. Linebreaker gritted his teeth and gripped the helm for dear life. Rather than lift off and abandon Linebreaker, Arc moved closer to the stubborn captain and prepared for a quick grab-and-getaway should the wave claim the ship.

With no point in waiting around, Hiccup had Toothless take off to a safe altitude. A moment later, Ship's spear-like prow pierced the edge of the wave, the ship violently lifted upward as it collided. Linebreaker's legs fell out from under his, his hands clinging to the helm that had become his lifeline. Arc fell backward on the deck, narrowly avoiding squishing Nestor as he slid off Arc's back, as torrents of water splashed across the deck, washing unsecured crates over the side and dousing the hapless crew in gallons of salty brine.

Flooded and saturated, Ship broke through the emerging crest like a dolphin bursting out of the ocean. The wave continued its cresting behind them and began flattening out as Ship rode the back end of the wave down to normal sea level, safe and soggy. Linebreaker found his footing again, laughing with such gusto that one might have thought the sea had just told him a hysterical joke.

"Nice try, my oceanic friend," he declared to the sea. "But you cannot have my ship until it is named."

"This makes it official: air travel is safer," commented Nestor, wringing his shirt out as best he could. Arc shook his head in annoyance, not bothering to remark about the foolishness of human captains.

Safely in the air, Hiccup almost got out a sigh of relief when he saw what lay beyond the rogue wave. It was literally a hole in the ocean - Hiccup had no other description for it. It had to be a least a mile across, the sides of the maelstrom a constant flow of watery motion. The edges were so steep that any boat that fell in would head straight to the bottom for a quick and dirty drowning. It was almost like someone had punched a drainage hole in the sea floor and all the water was rushing down into it. The sea was emptying right in front of them, fish jumping away from the edge of the cone-shaped maelstrom or even jumping out of the walls and falling down into deeper waters below.

But the more he studied it, the less Hiccup believed this was a real maelstrom. The maelstrom wasn't flowing downward, like any whirlpool would do. The water kept a level height, as if directed through a humungous invisible channel. Hiccup started to think of a different conclusion – that this was an act of mystical water displacement.

"After today, no more sailing for me," said Astrid as she clung to Hiccup from behind.

Hiccup was too busy staring at the object residing at the center of the giant maelstrom, the object rising to greet the sunlight, to properly reply.

* * *

Most of the _Zenith's _crew stood at the railing, the Alchemist and her lieutenants among them, awestruck by the incredible phenomenon underway before them. Even Norom, the most trusted and experienced member of her army, had yet to see this feat of ancient mystical engineering, and his raised eyebrows gave away his wonderment.

Not everyone had materialized for the latest show of Artisan power. The Alchemist observed no sign of Cragfist amongst the crowd. No surprise. He'd been keeping a low profile the whole trip to the Repository. Brooding over her decision to keep Saga alive, no doubt.

Qiao and the Seer themselves stood with Norom, both women clad in manacles and just as wonderstruck as the rest. Dark Star stood next to them, the dragon giving them glares that promised much pain should they get out of line.

The last few days of having Qiao back in her company had given the Alchemist a hefty dose of nostalgia. The first time Qiao's infant hands had gripped hers. The first time Qiao had picked up a bow and sent an arrow into an ancient Greek vase, smashing it into ancient Greek pieces. Their first trip outside the Safe House that resulted in a chance encounter with Cleopatra of Egypt and a lesson on how it wasn't wise to steal jewelry off of leaders of nations.

Even then, the Alchemist knew about Qiao's tendencies. A wiser surrogate mother would have been prepared for the day her surrogate daughter embraced her nature. A wiser surrogate mother would have done a lot of things differently.

The Alchemist shoved such thoughts away. Too late for regrets. Far too late.

"Signalman." She waved to the designated signalman, who was carrying a beehive-shaped rock the color of burnt orange in his hands. "You may cut the connection."

The signalman nervously touched the beehive rock, and while there were no outward changes visible on the stone, the Alchemist felt that little twittering in her teeth come to an end. The signal activating the Repository had been severed.

The massive wave that accompanied the Repository's reveal struck the _Zenith_ with a flourish of aquatic fury, streaks of water jetting up and wetting random crewmembers. The ship did not list one inch, as unaffected as a reef full of rocks would be. The ocean had thrown far worse at the vessel, and it had come out unscathed every time.

The ship moved to within fifty feet of the edge of the maelstrom, anchoring uncomfortably close to the perilously steep sides. More than a few crewmembers exchanged nervous glances. A reasonable fear, but there was no undertow or current to draw in the _Zenith_. The Repository's defenses were based on concealment, not death.

A tower rested in the maelstrom's dead center, a white pillar of granite-like material that resembled a human finger, the tip flat rather than curved. Water swirled around the base but dared not touch it. An eagle eye could spy little carvings and symbols along the sides, the works of artists long dead, preserved by the same power that kept the Repository free from the ocean's degrading caress. Right below the flat roof of the tower, several ledges jutted out like thorns on a stem, leading to open stairways carved from the stone that led up to the roof.

As the maelstrom froze its widening maw, the tower mystically elongated itself with the grinding roar of stone against stone, pushing upward like a sun-starved seedling. Foot by foot, it slowly ascended toward the sky.

"You were never one to think inside-the-box, Alche," remarked Qiao. "After all, why build on solid ground like everyone else when you can build under the sea? Not like anything could go wrong there."

"I didn't build it," said the Alchemist, ignoring Qiao's use of her pet name. The men would undoubtedly find it amusing, but they knew better than to use it. "But I did help to move it, and secure it from intrusion. It used to be above ground. The last joint venture by the Artisans and the Ancestors before the End War forever destroyed the bonds between them. Our final act of peace was to sink it into the sea, to ensure that none could use the secrets within until the war had ended and peace had returned. A futile sentiment, as we well know."

"Sounds like you know this place well," stated the Seer.

"I used to work here. I did research into many fantastic subjects, studied frontiers that you can't even dream of. I dearly loved this place, but unfortunately the one thing I lost over the millennia was the key to the place." She gave Qiao a knowing look. "Thankfully, I had a spare."

'Me?" said Qiao. "I didn't take it."

"Well… you did, Qiao. You just didn't know it. In fact, I had hoped to avoid this possibility altogether. There is more than one way to open a door, a truth I'm certain you are well aware of given your profession. But the other means are inaccessible to me, and I no longer have the time. Everything runs in cycles, and though I consider astrology a load of donkey chips, it gets one thing right – the stars matter, and they are in the right position."

As the tower continued its ascension, Kong pushed through the crowd and whispered a few words in the Alchemist's ear. Ill words, alas. She kept her mouth from slipping into a frown and quietly moved off with Kong to a sparser section of the ship. Sheen met them there, spyglass in hand.

"They're a little hard to see from here," Sheen explained. "But make no mistake – we have company."

The Alchemist took the spyglass and scanned for the "company." Sure enough, there was another ship on the opposite side of the maelstrom. Even worse, there was a distinctive black dot flying above the unknown ship.

The Dragon Rider had followed them.

"It's that twerpy kid and his dragon, right?" said Sheen. "You should have sent me to deal with them, not your pet."

"Toothless would have incinerated you," replied the Alchemist. "Dark Star handled things fine. They should not have found us… unless…" She glanced at Sheen. "When you searched Qiao's possessions, did you find a Trail Stone?"

"No," said Sheen. "Does it matter?"

The Alchemist let out an uncharacteristically angry groan as the realization hit. "The Trail Stone. The link was still active. The Hyperion must have traced the connection."

"My folly, Alchemist," said Kong, bowing in shame. "I left the Hyperion alive."

"Not your fault, Kong. It was mine for forgetting that Hyperions are never to be trifled with, a mistake I will not be repeating." She tossed the spyglass back to Sheen and stormed back to the gathering, Kong and Sheen right behind her.

The Repository's tower had ceased its ascension as the Alchemist barked out a series of insistent orders, the tower's main ledge at sea level. With their master in such a perturbed state and demanding their attention, the crew missed the part where dozens of large granite slabs up and broke away from the central tower, floating up under their own mystical power and synching with the arrival ledge. They merged together, extending the ledge out to the _Zenith_, forming one long walkway of stone suspended in midair.

She ordered Saga taken down to the brig – she'd had her breath of fresh air. She ordered Kong and Sheen to join the heavy guard crossing over with her and Qiao, Dark Star providing air support. She ordered Norom to stay onboard and keep the _Zenith_ exactly where it was, no matter who came for a visit. And finally, she ordered a squad of soldiers onto a modified Hunter Platform, one designed for pure combat, and gave them three simple commands.

Kill the dragons. Sink the pursing ship. Leave no survivors.

* * *

Cragfist held a glow-crystal to the metal surface of the Recorder, waiting for the crystal's inner light to wink out. He found the "feeding" part of this chore disturbing, as he swore he could hear the artifact sighing or making slurping noises through their mental link. He knew little about the behavior of intelligent devil-devices, but surely savoring their "meals" wasn't a standard feature.

_That will do_. The Recorder sounded pleased as Cragfist removed the drained crystal, pocketing it for later disposal over the side of the ship.

"That's it, o mighty sea urchin," he snidely remarked. "I'm pushing my luck as is stealing these things. Someone's going to poke their head into the storeroom I found and…"

_Do not fear,_ it reassured. _I have what I need now. Tell me, has she left the ship?_

"The Alchemist? She will be. She's taking that Qiao brat with her."

_Yes, to the Repository. A perfect opportunity. _The ominous tone to its words made Cragfist's facial scars throb. _For your sake, you should go away._

"Go away? We have a deal. I want leverage."

_And I will now fulfill your desire. Trust me, you will have all the leverage in the world against the Alchemist when I'm done. But it will look poorly on you if it's perceived that you were part of what is to come. Find a place out of the way, below deck if you can. Do not emerge for an hour or more._

The voice left Cragfist's mind, the Viking feeling like he'd just been tossed out of the action. The Recorder wasn't settling for giving out dangerous secrets. For some reason, it had a personal vendetta against the Alchemist. Good for Cragfist, most likely, unless the Recorder failed and ratted him out in the process.

By Odin's good eye, let him not repeat his father's mistakes.

As he left the hold, he heard more of those spine-shivering cracks. He didn't bother to stop and look. He knew their origin. He might call the Recorder a talking sea urchin, but he had begun to reconsider the label. It really had more in common with a grotesque egg, one with a mineral shell and enclosing a yoke of metal and vengeance.

Out on deck, he watched the erupting commotion as the crew sped about their duties. Something must have transpired, as one of the Alchemist's crab-legged platforms was getting ready to take off. The Alchemist was marching off down a floating walkway of white stone, her Night Fury freak-of-nature circling above her, Kong and Sheen beside her, and a dozen men flanking her and her foster brat, Qiao. That misbegotten Norom remained on the ship, growling out orders.

But his mood immediately improved upon seeing his sister, Saga, being marched back to the stairs leading to the brig. Saga without her weapons. With the Alchemist and the rest occupied, who'd be left to guard the brig?

A malicious grin formed on his lips. The Recorder wanted him busy for an hour? He could live with that.

* * *

"Remember, float _away_ from the maelstrom," said Linebreaker, talking to Ship's helm as if giving a child an important life lesson. "Don't go falling in and breaking apart while I'm gone."

Hiccup loudly cleared his throat to inform Linebreaker that they really should be leaving. Getting Linebreaker to abandon Ship was like pulling at tree roots. The only argument that worked was the steady reminder that Qiao needed his help. Even then, had the maelstrom's powerful current been pulling at the vessel instead of pushing it further away, Hiccup didn't think there was a force in nature that would have separated the captain from his prized boat.

Nestor and Arc had taken off minutes earlier to implement their part of the "plan," if you could call it that. More like a bunch of desperate ideas rammed together, a few of which had originated from Hiccup. He had also landed to retrieve and don his incomplete Dragon Rider armor, and with help from Astrid he had managed to get it strapped on without ripping his shirt up too badly on the torso section's edges. Hadn't quite gotten the kinks out of the overlapping plating style.

Getting back on Toothless, Hiccup suddenly realized how much his new armor clashed with the dark physique of his dragon buddy. Hiccup stood out like shiny silverware on a black tablecloth. Astrid had to squint when she looked at him now - the bright glare off his armor made it hard to look straight at him in the daylight.

Well, it wouldn't be one of his inventions if he got the bugs all worked out the first time, would it?

"You do look more manly, though," Astrid offered as reassurance.

"Really?" he replied. "Does it accentuate my physique?"

"More like hides it," she quipped.

"I have only one true love in this world," said Linebreaker as he took a seat on Toothless behind Astrid, "and I'm letting the sea have it. That's akin to trusting a dog with a piece of bacon."

"Qiao will appreciate your sacrifice," said Astrid.

"She had better."

Airborne, Toothless did what Hiccup asked – head straight for the Alchemist's ship. Which meant going over the cavernous maw of the maelstrom, turning a low-level flight over the ocean into a stomach-contents-losing flight over dizzying, frothing waters. Hiccup tried keeping his eyes on the threats ahead of him, but found the whirling action below him difficult to ignore, especially when it encompassed everything below him.

Good thing there was a flying war machine coming right at them. At least _that_ didn't make him dizzy when he stared at it for too long.

"Arc's description was pretty apt," said Hiccup. "Looks like the thing that took Qiao away."

"Unattractive," said Linebreaker. "They could at least give it a coat of paint."

The platform was halfway over the maelstrom when it changed direction to intercept Toothless, its three legs bent up and curled under the main body, half-a-dozen figures on top readying bows. Hiccup wagered Toothless could easily outfly it, but he had promised Nestor a diversion.

One diversion coming up.

Out a ways, Metal Fury darted above a group of people walking across the newly formed bridge-from-out-of-nowhere. They were too far away to engage, though that might not stop Metal Fury from trying. But she seemed content to escort the people below her. Must be important people in that search party. If this watery abyss with the self-building tower was actually the Repository, and Hiccup believed it was, that group probably meant to enter it.

Astrid let out a gasp, having seen someone important among the marching figures. "Hiccup, Qiao's down there!"

"You sure?"

"Positive. They ringing her, like she's under guard." Her tone fell several octaves. "No Saga, though. She must be on the ship."

"Must be," said Linebreaker, his quiet tone arguing the possibility of a far-less-positive alternative to Astrid's statement.

"We could rescue Qiao right now," suggested Astrid. "Fly in and grab her before they knew what hit them."

"They'll see us coming, Astrid," argued Hiccup, "and Metal Fury won't be playing nice this time. We stick to the plan."

"It's not a very good plan," said Astrid.

"You can complain to the plan-maker when you see him. Right now, it's what we have."

As the platform entered Toothless's fireball-range, Hiccup noticed one of the soldiers had no bow and wore a harness not all that different from his, something shiny fitted to the center section. It fit the description of those special harnesses the men who assaulted Arc had worn. Then, to drive the resemblance home, the harnessed man began waving his hands around erratically, his chest region glowing with intense light. A horde of ebony-colored rocks lifted away from the platform's sides and circled around the platform like an inverted whirlpool. It had to be a defensive measure against fireballs and other projectiles. Most of the rocks orbited around the top half of the platform, protecting the soldiers.

"Aim for the platform, bud," said Hiccup. "Not as much protection down there."

Toothless agreed, built up a head of combustion gas, and launched a gob of blue fire straight at the platform's midsection. It made it through the defenses, erupting on the surface with a shower of smoke and scattering debris, shaking the platform and its topside occupants.

As the smoke cleared, Hiccup saw that the only real damage done was a sizeable hole in the platform's side. Stone was hard to blast apart, even with Night-Fury-class fire attacks.

The counterattack commenced immediately, the soldiers bringing up their bows and launching a volley of arrows straight at Toothless. One good jink-and-twist spared Toothless from any arrow wounds, but he shouldn't have had to do anything. He was too far away and moving too fast for arrows to be even remotely accurate.

Hiccup saw the problem when a second volley flew by, Toothless dodging with a spin-and-bank maneuver. The arrowheads were awful shiny and flashed sunlight as they passed. They were using myssteel arrows, which aided their aiming skills.

Linebreaker moaned as Toothless jinked a third time to escape a new volley. Hiccup glanced back at him and saw him hugging Astrid tightly, his eyes closed and his teeth clenched. Astrid was none too pleased with this development.

"You okay, Captain?" Hiccup asked. His reply was another moan.

"I think he's airsick," said Astrid. "Must be all the spinning."

"I guess not everyone's cut out for dragon riding."

"All I know is that if he barfs on my clothes, _you're_ doing the laundry."

"I'm suddenly regretting that salted pork I had for breakfast," Linebreaker said, struggling to keep said breakfast where it was supposed to be.

Hiccup's attention returned to more pressing matters when Toothless cried out in surprise and banked hard, narrowly avoiding a cloud of pebble-sized projectiles that had no business flying over the ocean. Hiccup blanched as the battle platform brought out a new weapon: hexagon-shaped holes had formed in the sides of the war machine, one hole for each compass direction. From the holes launched pumpkin-sized rocks at phenomenal speeds, faster than any catapult could deliver. Worse, the rocks weren't targeting Toothless directly, but leading him so that they could perform a very un-stone-like action – exploding.

The resulting rain of pebble projectiles forced Toothless to twist and turn even harder, which made Linebreaker moan more frequently. Airsickness was better than death by aerial stoning, though.

"Keep your heads down!" Hiccup ordered the others. He then took his own advice and hunched over, not mentioning to Astrid that he'd felt something hard and fast bounce off his torso armor.

Toothless was forced to fly further from the platform, unable to get off any shots while dodging the combined arrow-and-stone barrage. Sensing they had the upper hand, the platform's pilot directed the platform to follow and the soldiers to keep up the attack. Eventually the dragon would tire and falter, and then they'd have a trophy to take back to the Alchemist.

"This better be the part of the plan where we get some help soon," said Astrid, struggling to get Linebreaker to loosen his grip.

"Too bad we didn't plan this far ahead," said Hiccup.

* * *

"This is not a very good plan," said Arc.

"Where's the faith, Old Man?" said Nestor.

"Faith doesn't fill the holes in your battle plan."

A hazy optical illusion covertly approached the massive warship from the side facing away from the maelstrom, skimming the ocean so low that Arc could have lowered his head and taken a drink of salt water. His young protégé rode his back at a crouch, preparing for the inevitable dismount.

Hiccup had come through on his end. The air battle over the maelstrom was sufficiently distracting. Hardly an eye was watching the northern approach. But hardly an eye wasn't the same as no eyes. Arc had pointed out three spotters positioned on elevated watching posts, and he was convinced they would see him as he flew by.

Good thing that was part of the plan.

"You don't even have a exit plan," continued Arc.

"We can always swim."

"Swimming? Next to a maelstrom?"

"I'll steal a landing boat."

"Oh, _that_ won't be obvious."

"I've handled worse with less planning."

"Yes, because I come save your rear most of the time."

"This looks about right, get ready." Nestor tensed his legs for the jump, starting a mental countdown to his departure.

"Just… don't try taking on the whole ship, alright?"

Arc passed by an unoccupied corner of the ship, close enough to slap his left wing on the ship's hull. Unable to channel power to his legs due to his Shroud, Nestor had to hope that his ordinary leg muscles weren't about to embarrass him by getting him killed.

The jump felt so underpowered he likened it to having marshmallows for legs, but it still did the trick. He reached the deck with a thud and a roll, still Shrouded. He quickly hid behind some kind of storm barrier built into the deck as Arc dropped his Shroud and let out a ferocious challenge to the startled spotters on duty. Men scurried to get their bows at the ready, but they were a day late in reacting as Arc banked hard and sped away from the ship, engaging his Shroud and disappearing amongst the choppy waves.

The second distraction did the trick, or so it appeared. All the north-side guards were looking out to sea and not fanning out to search the ship. The easy part was over.

Yes, the easy part. Because the rest of this quest involved finding Saga and Qiao on a unfamiliar boat and somehow escaping to Linebreaker's vessel, with dozens of well-armed soldiers and a few very-well-armed warriors thrown in to make things difficult.

This was not a very good plan.

* * *

They had come for her.

Standing on top of an ancient pillar towering hundreds of feet above a violent maelstrom, surrounded by Alche's loyal minions, and moments from performing a presumably dangerous task to open up this older-than-dirt hideaway, Qiao had no reason to feel as good as she did. But she felt it all the same, because they had come for her.

Well, her and the warrior princess. Probably more the warrior princess than her. But she had to be in their thoughts somewhere. For a thief used to the every-criminal-for-herself way of life, actually being rescued was downright heartwarming.

Of course, she wasn't rescued, was she? It was probably too late for a rescue. They were about to pop the top of this tower. Some kind of sacrifice was warranted for these kinds of big-secret places. All the stories said as much.

But the thought counted. It meant a lot to her. At least Saga might get away, and then they could put the hurt on Alche's plans.

Alche watched the ongoing air battle between her Hunter Platform and Toothless with stone-faced seriousness. She might be able to pull off the no-worries look in front of her men, but Qiao could see the slight twinge in her mouth that signaled that all was not copasetic.

Dark Star's shadow took turns covering different members of the boarding party, the dragon maintaining a vigil in the sky directly above. Alche was keeping her on a tight leash. For her friends' sake, Qiao hoped it stayed that way.

Qiao and her handlers had reached the center of the tower's roof, strange circular carvings etched in the stone as if some artist had been given orders to only use curves and ovals and ellipses. The carvings overlapped in places, one large circle divided by five smaller ones right in the middle while two similar, but much smaller, designs occupied the north and south sections.

The soldiers spread out to properly guard the roof while Kong and Sheen roughly escorted Qiao to the southern mini-circle. Alche took one last look at the air battle, then stepped to the northern mini-circle and stood within it. Kong shoved Qiao into the center of her own circle.

Qiao had expected something nasty to occur upon stepping into the circle, maybe her soul getting sucked out of her ears or a plague of boils erupting all over her body. But with Alche in the other circle, standing politely and doing nothing, Qiao wasn't so sure now. She had briefly toyed with tossing herself off the edge, but she knew Dark Star would intercept her before she hit bottom. Plus Saga's life would end with hers.

"It's a nice view," said Qiao to Alche. "If it wasn't for the giant vortex of death, you could build a cottage here and charge rent. Might be a nice money-maker while you do the whole make-a-better-world thing."

"Qiao, keep in mind that your tongue is not required for this task," threatened the Alchemist. Kong glared at Qiao to remind her who'd be doing the tongue removal.

Then something shifted under her feet, as if the stone had fallen an inch or two. The circle began rotating in position, moving clockwise until the pattern lined up with the main circle to form a new circular pattern. Alche rotated as well, her circle moving in synch with Qiao's. It, too, stopped when the lines met up with the central circle.

Long seconds went by, Qiao wanting so very much to ask a question but not wanting to risk the loss of her tongue. The ongoing air battle had fallen into a stalemate. Weren't dragon battles supposed to be more exciting than…?

_SHUNK!_

Qiao jumped out of her circle as the central circle developed cracks where the decorative lines once were. Everyone watched as the stone slid away into hidden alcoves and recesses, leaving a vacuous hole thirty feet across. A wide spiral staircase made from the same pearly-white stone descended toward a distant bottom floor.

"That was it?" Qiao dared ask. "All this so I could stand on a counterweight lock? Your brownnoser here could've done that." She gestured at Kong with her head.

"No, Qiao," said the Alchemist. "Only you and I could have done it. Kong, Sheen, please bring her along."

Alche touched one of her armband gems, Dark Star instantly breaking off her airborne vigil and landing next to her master. Using the psychic bond between them, the Alchemist must have ordered Dark Star to scout ahead, as the half-metal dragon growled out the dragon equivalent of a "yes, mistress," and walked to the steps leading down. The dragon hesitated, studying the darkness below, then folded up her metallic wings and began carefully descending the staircase on foot.

As unkind hands grabbed her and ushered her to the steps, the Alchemist told the other soldiers to hold this position and let no one by. She made sure to emphasize the "pain of torturous death should they fail" part. Alche brought up the rear as their happy little party followed Dark Star into the shadowy innards of the tower.

The stone door automatically closed after Alche, the sunlight vanishing and replaced by feeble glow-crystals that made the trip down the stairs akin to a trip to a haunted castle. What little mirth Qiao had gathered vanished with the daylight. The reprieve she had felt when the Repository's grand opening hadn't killed her felt like a cruel trick, because the Alchemist wasn't done with her.

Qiao wondered if she'd just gotten her last dose of sunlight… ever.

* * *

The latest fireball from Toothless's mouth faired no better than the last three, harmlessly exploding against a trio of defense rocks. Toothless growled in frustration and banked away to keep out of archery range.

At the extent of his fire-lobbing range, Toothless was out of the path of the platform's archers, though the platform's rock cannons were still a threat. But the platform's pilot could now anticipate incoming fireballs and set up impenetrable formations of stones to detonate them early.

The battle was going nowhere very quickly. Toothless had to get closer to attack effectively. Getting closer meant arrows in the butt.

The good news was that Toothless didn't need to spin as often, which meant Linebreaker wasn't gripping Astrid as tightly and threatening to hurl every other second. He still had too much green in the face, though.

"Is there always this much spinning?" asked Linebreaker.

"More, sometimes," said Hiccup.

"You Vikings truly are stubborn, both in mind and stomach."

"Hiccup, we can't keep this up forever," said Astrid. "Toothless doesn't have a infinite amount of gas."

"Tell me something I don't know," replied Hiccup. "I hope this is the kind of diversion Nestor wanted, because we sure aren't doing anything else."

"It'll do," spoke a passing voice.

Toothless pulled up in surprise as a familiar distortion zoomed in front of him, heading for the platform. The soldiers on top had not yet seen him, thus their surprise was complete when Arc materialized at point-blank range, frightening the archers into hesitancy or wild firing.

Arc unleashed lightning bolt after lightning bolt as he flew by, not at the platform but at the floating rock shield. Electricity leapt from stone to stone, blasting some apart while others seemed to lose their power and drop into the maelstrom like… well, stones. By the time he was done, half of the rock shield was gone, leaving the platform, and its panicking soldiers, painfully exposed. For added effect, Arc fired one bolt straight into one of the hexagonal rock cannons. The platform shook vigorously as something went boom inside, the soldiers thrown off their feet momentarily.

The platform's pilot was no quitter, though. He rotated the platform to bring another rock cannon to bear on Arc, and soon Arc was dodging flying pebbles and speeding away. This gave the archers time to get back on their feet, though the platform was clearly worse for wear and flying slower than before.

Giving the platform a wide berth, Arc swung back around to fly formation with Toothless. Arc noticed Linebreaker's sickly demeanor. "He seems ill."

"Get me on the ground, please," pleaded the Captain.

"Is Nestor where he's supposed to be?" asked Hiccup.

"Yes," said Arc, unable to suppress his concern over his protégée's plight. "He's on his own."

"I should have gone with him," said Astrid.

"Unless you have taken up Shrouding recently, your presence would have done more ill than good," said Arc. "Fear not, you have a more important role, Young Astrid." Arc pointed over at the white tower, which had a dozen figures spread out over its roof. "We need to secure that roof."

"If that means standing on solid ground, count (_gurgle_) me in," said Linebreaker.

"We could just blast them off," said Hiccup.

"Toothless needs all the fire he has left for greater threats," said Arc, "and I need my lightning. Trust in your girlfriend's ability to smite the wicked."

"Smite the wicked?" said Hiccup. "Who talks like that?"

"Don't worry, Hiccup," said Astrid, smiling. "So what if it's six-to-one odds? Still better than trying to win a fight with Saga."

Hiccup hated it when Astrid got excited and eager to get into a fight, but he didn't say anything. It wasn't like things were safer riding Toothless. Still, he could give Astrid and Linebreaker an edge. Hiccup patted Toothless's head to get his attention and then whispered into one perked-up ear.

"Bud, I have two words," he said. "Smoke bomb."

* * *

The twelve soldiers on the Repository's roof had not been given any anti-dragon weaponry. They didn't even have any "silver arms," the coveted weapons used by the Alchemist's best people. They had assumed that the Hunter Platform would take care of the dragons and that guarding the entrance was mere busywork.

Thus, there was more than a little trepidation towards the approaching Night Fury. But they feared the Alchemist's bad side even more. With swords and shields at the ready, they braced for the worst.

When the oddball fireball shot out of the dragon's mouth, they had all done the reasonable thing: hiding behind their shields. But instead of skin-blistering flames, there was a light popping sound and a whoosh of air. They now found themselves surrounded in acrid smoke, unable to see the roof they stood on, much less their cohorts.

Something landed in the middle of the roof, though not a soldier could identify it. Another whoosh of air buffeted the soldiers and spread out the smoke further. One observant fellow thought this meant the dragon had left again and yelled his observation to his comrades.

He was the first to get pummeled into silence.

A nearby soldier called to his distressingly-quiet friend. A strong elbow found his nose a second later.

The smoke cleared enough for two other soldiers to make the cloudy image of a young female Viking coming at them, her war cry harsh and terrifying. They moved their shields up to block, only to have their shields cut in half with one swipe of her myssteel axe.

On the other side of the roof, two more soldiers stumbled upon a dark-skinned man in sailor's attire, hunched over and hugging his stomach like he was having serious pains. Nervous, but bright enough to know an interloper when they saw one, they charged him without question.

The first soldier to reach him reacted with much dismay when the man bolted upright, cutlass in hand, and parried the soldier's thrust around him. The soldier's momentum carried him forward, past the sailor and over the edge of the roof.

His sad scream ended very quickly when he hit the floating walkway below.

"Be thankful I have a sense of humor," Linebreaker shouted after the man, right before his cutlass went into a weaving dance with the other, much less gung-ho soldier.

"This would be over quicker if my guts weren't tied up," said the Captain, "so count yourself fortunate."

By the time the smoke diminished, the scene that solidified was composed of twelve disarmed and limping soldiers, picking themselves off the ground and heading for the mystical walkway as best they could. Astrid and Linebreaker ushered them on with slaps to the rear with the flat of their blades. They had both agreed that sending the soldiers running, weaponless and with a few ripped seams in their uniforms, would get the point across better than wholesale slaughter.

"Now _this _is what I've been missing," said Astrid, standing with Linebreaker at the foot of the walkway, watching the soldiers retreat to the vessel. "I mean, why train every day if you never beat up the bad guys?"

"I'm glad you find this enjoyable," said Linebreaker, "as it appears we're far from done."

Astrid saw what he was getting at. A new baker's dozen of fresh troops were racing past the battered soldiers, taking care not to bump each other over the sides. From the looks on their faces, these guys were spoiling for a real fight.

"We're holding the walkway, I take it," said Linebreaker.

"Would you rather get back on Toothless?" asked Astrid.

Linebreaker clutched his stomach at the thought. "Holding the walkway it is, then."

* * *

Mort the sailor had been many things in his life – good-for-nothing son, bad farmer, halfway-decent sailor, substandard pirate, and now back to a halfway-decent sailor for an outstandingly successful warlord-lady. In most things in life, he was happy to just sit in the back and watch everyone else do all the dirty work. Somebody had to keep the lamps lit and the hatches battened, right?

Right now, his work philosophy seemed pretty sweet. The _Zenith_ boiled with excitement as sailors and soldiers watched the battles over the giant sea-pool… or mali-storm… or whatever you called it. Some guys were grabbing their weapons, waiting for that ogre-like fellow, Norom, to give the order to rush into the fray. The guy had the men manning the ballista and prepping the main rock launchers like they were going to war.

Could you go to war against two dragons and a few humans? Didn't wars need armies?

Mort didn't sweat it. Let the big guys duke it out. It gave him more time to play with those fun little daggers. If only he didn't have to share them with Kelso and Lars. Those two swill-drinkers had them right now, on the starboard side of the ship, away from the attention of Norom. Booty from that redheaded prisoner they'd picked up in Outcast Bay. The daggers were supposed to be locked up, but Kelso had the key to the weapons locker and had brought them out to share.

They were only daggers – deadly daggers that could cut through darn near anything, like chainmail and fruitcake – but holding them in your hands made you feel like you were somebody. Only the best got silver arms. Only the best earned them. Mort could pretend he had hit the big time without stretching out his neck to get there.

If they got caught with them… that might be a problem. But Kelso was the guy with the key. Kelso would take the brunt of the heat. Besides, who'd catch them right now, what with all the attention on dragons and stuff?

Kelso and Lars had had them long enough. His turn.

Mort went back to his hiding spot behind a secured landing boat, expecting to find Kelso and Lars taking turns holding the daggers and doing their best impressions of Kong. He came across Kelso and Lars, all right, but the two men were face down on the deck, still and quiet-like, and not in that too-much-to-drink style of still and quiet-like.

"What'd you two do?" blurted out Mort. He glanced around for the daggers, fearing that their play-acting had gotten too real. He didn't see them anywhere on his pals. Lord, if they lost those daggers…

A weird thing past before his eyes, like a heat mirage or a light haze. Funny, it kinda looked like a human arm.

No, check that, a fist. More so because it smacked him right in the chest like a bloomin' cudgel, knocking him against the railing of the ship and fuzzying up his head.

"Formal introduction," said the heat mirage, only it stopped being a heat mirage and became a man holding Mort by the throat. "Nestor."

"Yeee!" Mort wheezed.

The man named Nestor held up the prisoner's dagger belt, the daggers tucked in their sheaths. A dangerous light shined in his eyes. "The woman who this belongs to – where?"

"Yeee!" repeated Mort.

"If you don't want to go swimming in the maelstrom, tell me where," he demanded.

"Brig, brig, the brig!"

"Good. And the brig is where?"

Mort gave the strange man directions, which placated him into not tossing Mort into the mali-storm thing. His actual reward was another slam into the railing, robbing Mort of his chance to watch the conclusion of the battle as he slunk to the deck to join his friends.

Sometimes, being in the back wasn't so hot.


	17. Rematch

**Author's Note: **Haven't done one of these in awhile... and I really don't have much to say just yet. I'm saving up for some final words when we get to the last installment at the end of September, but I can speak my mind a little bit.

* The TV series: so far I like it, but it's not perfect. On the one hand, it's doing what I hoped it would do: going through the trials and tribulations of a culture adapting to living with dragons after fighting them for three centuries, rather than just doing "new dragon of the week" episodes. Future plotlines also look promising. The animation is okay for a TV series and it's keeping to the themes and feel of the movie. That said, not all of the replacement voice actors have their characters down, and I'm already noticing a few continuity conflicts (such as the dragons being less assimilated than the end of HTTYD implied). It's difficult to place the series in relation to the two HTTYD specials (Book of Dragons doesn't count), but I'm assuming for now that those specials occur further down the timeline in our characters' lives. It does make me feel better about the liberties I take in my fanfic series when the official version goofs in places.

* My next story is taking longer than I expected (shock, I know) mostly due to work being more stressful than usual. I'm revising my estimate for completion to the end of the year.

That's all. Onwards.

**Chapter Sixteen: Rematch**

The lock proved stubborn. Even with Qiao's tutoring on lock picking, the lock fought the chicken bone every step of the way. Qiao made it look so easy, having picked her own cell door twice to demonstrate the effortlessness of her technique.

Saga closed her eyes and tried once more, relying on touch and sound to pry open the lock. It was hard to concentrate with the jitter and anticipation of battle in the background, the _Zenith_ alive with activity. At any moment someone could arrive to either guard her or to finally put her down, and she would be hard pressed to resist in her tiny cell.

Before being rushed down to the brig, she had seen the Repository rise from the ocean, the sea itself parting as if repelled by its touch. Awe-inspiring, yes, but she was more excited by the ship she had spied on the opposite side of the maelstrom. She didn't know this ship, had had no vision of it, but she already knew who it belonged to.

Her friends had come for her.

_Snap!_

Saga clenched her teeth in exasperation. Another break in her pick. Too many more and her pick would be useless.

_Chunk!_

That was not breakage. To her surprise, the lock was now moveable as she twisted the pick. A little serendipity to go with her frustration.

The lock clicked open, the door swinging outward. Saga stepped outside cautiously, waiting for any signs of…

"About time, Sister."

Saga took a step back as she made out Cragfist in the gloom, her brother standing at the top of the stairway. He leaned on his two-handed sword with one hand, holding a key chain in the other. His smile was as friendly as an executioner's axe.

"I didn't want to interrupt," he said. "You were so hard at work that you didn't even see me. I would've given you the key had you failed. First time I've ever snuck up on you in my life. Last time, too."

Predictable as always, her brother and his intentions, but this time he had the upper hand. Saga considered the battle environment. One exit out, the cages taking up valuable maneuvering room – the only place worse for a fight would be back in her cage.

"So this is how you plan to get your revenge?" she said. "Strike me down like a coward? And you dare claim that I have fallen so far from our people's ways?"

"I listened to you, Sister." Cragfist dropped the keys and took up his sword in both hands, stepping to block off the stairs from Saga. "I admit it now. I am no more Gunnarr than you. Why should I keep my honor when it has brought me only failure and misery?"

"If that is true, then why do this? We can start fresh again. We can be truly brother and sister, not adversaries competing for power."

"And forget everything you've done to me?"

"I do not expect you to forget," said Saga. "I _did_ treat you badly. I made you out to be my lesser. I… I was caught up in my position as much as you were yours. You deserve your anger for that. But if you continue to let your anger rule you, you will destroy yourself."

Cragfist laughed evilly. "Words of the desperate. Where was your concern when you had the upper hand?"

Her eyes stared hard at Cragfist, remorseful but not fearful. "You serve someone dangerous, Brother, and I needed to know why… but even then, I never intended to kill you."

"Your weakness, then. And for your information, I have no master. I have a new partner now, someone willing to…"

He broke off as Saga's eyes widened suddenly. Cragfist took it as Saga acknowledging the truth of her fate, and his smile lengthened. "I see the look on your face. You understand now. This is where it ends, Sister. This is where I move on and…"

About the time he realized she was looking past him, not at him, he felt a tap on his shoulder. His smile disappeared. No matter who was tapping his shoulder, it couldn't be a good thing.

One super-strong punch later, Cragfist slammed against Saga's cell wall and crumpled to the floor, his sword lying uselessly at his side.

"No, this is where you take a nap," said Nestor.

Saga didn't know how to handle the sudden removal of six days of anxiety that occurred after witnessing Nestor appear behind her murderous brother. What do normal women do at this stage, laugh or cry? But the relieved-yet-cautious smile he gave her was a reminder that they were still deep in enemy territory. The Seer was needed right now, not Saga. She'd save the emotion for later.

"You could have waited another moment," she said, allowing a smile to slip past her resolve. "He was about to divulge something important."

"Glad to see you too," said Nestor, though the sarcasm wasn't very thick and his smile held. In his left hand hung her dagger belt. "I think you misplaced these."

She took them and strapped them on, feeling ten times better immediately. "How did you get on this ship?"

"Linebreaker has a good boat. Been chasing you for six days. Arc dropped me off during Hiccup's diversion."

"Are the others…?"

"For the time being, we're all good," he said. "We can do catch-up while we run for it." Nestor noticed an important omission concerning his plans. "Ah, yeah, Qiao?"

"You did not see her on your way in?" Nestor answered with a headshake. "The Alchemist must have gone inside the Repository with her."

Nestor groaned at the news. "_Salo krebit_, the plan didn't cover getting inside the Repository."

"Does the 'plan' cover getting us off this ship?"

Nestor laughed sheepishly. "Well… it covered getting _on_ the ship. Leaving's the tricky part." He glanced at Cragfist, who was still kissing the floor. "What about him?"

"Let him be," said Saga. "Living is the worst punishment I can think of, having him live knowing that he failed once again."

Nestor's scowl suggested he didn't like the idea of mercy, not today. "He'll keep coming after you, Saga."

"That will be my burden." The glare she gave him made it clear that this was not a discussion. "He is the only blood I have left, Nestor."

"Bad blood, for sure." He shook his head once, then softened his expression. "I do get it, Saga. But he's not your burden – he's _our_ burden. And that's okay. Makes life more interesting to have a blood feud or two." He moved to the stairs, motioning to her to get a move on.

Saga had to tell herself that the little tear in the corner of her eye was dust-related.

* * *

Another fireball rocked the platform, blasting more charred rock from its sides and helping to forever ruin the chiseled elegance of the war machine. It also caused it to lurch hard again as the pilot tried to get out of Toothless's firing line, the archers holding on to the safety railing for life and limb.

"Arc's turn," said Hiccup, Toothless veering off out of the platform's weapon range. On cue, the wizened green dragon came at the platform from the opposite side, two lighting bolts thundering in to remove more of the stone defense field. It was getting pretty thin, but they were still able to block fireballs more often than not. The archers were getting smarter, taking more time with their remaining arrows and firing leading shots, which prevented Arc and Toothless from getting in closer for a finishing attack.

Hiccup kept glancing at the tower's roof, where Astrid and Linebreaker were holding position. The two of them had sent the guards packing and were holding the line against reinforcements. He wanted to be down there with her, protecting her, but that was the "guy" part of Hiccup talking. She was taking down the Alchemist's soldiers in less than two moves each, their weapons falling apart after meeting her myssteel axe. And Linebreaker was no slouch in the sword-fighting department, either. On the narrow walkway the soldiers could only come at them two or three at a time, giving Astrid and Linebreaker the advantage.

Hiccup's role was to keep the weapon platform at bay so it couldn't rain death on the tower or their ship. It was proving to be an arduous task. The Hel-spawned contraption didn't want to go down in flames. It almost made him long for battles against abominations and Guardians. At least those things exploded with the application of enough firepower.

"I need to land on the roof," said Arc, flying in close so they could communicate. "I have to work on opening the tower."

"I thought the plan, such as it is, was rescue and retreat," said Hiccup.

"Qiao and the Alchemist are already inside," said Arc. "We need to follow."

Hiccup had missed seeing the tower open and shut. Too busy fighting the platform. "Not that I don't want to save Qiao, but we'll be trapped if we do that."

"No, they will not fire upon the tower with the Alchemist inside. Can you handle things here?"

"Yeah, but tell Nestor that this counts as _two_ diversions. I'm up one now."

Arc broke away as Hiccup steered Toothless into another diving attack. As the platform took another shuddering blow, Hiccup considered his other crazy idea – destroying the floating walkway linking the tower to the Alchemist's ship. That would make life better for Astrid almost instantly. But it would also cut off the sole exit route for Nestor and Saga. Their not-very-good plan had a real lack of escape routes, and Nestor needed every option he could get.

_Nestor, buddy, speed things up_, he mused as Toothless banked around for another attack.

* * *

"This is not a very good plan," stated Saga.

"You're not the first to say that," replied Nestor.

The two of them huddled behind a pair of secured landing boats close to the gathered throng of Alchemist troops, most of them clustered around the threshold to the walkway leading to the Repository. The crowd was livid, some shouting support to their friends charging into the fray, some in pain and licking their wounds with manly curses and complaints, some keen on joining the ongoing battle while others kept to the rear and only acted the part.

Dozens of men, all in the way. All of whom would be unhappy to see Nestor and Saga walking around on their ship.

"Truly, this is a bad plan," said Saga.

"Heard you the first time. But unless you had a vision saying this is going to kill us, you could give me the benefit of the doubt."

"I have not had visions for six days, since the sky came alive."

"Well, no visions means nothing to worry about," joked Nestor.

"I would not interpret it that way… but, lacking better ideas…" She held her daggers at the ready, grimly nodding for Nestor to do his thing.

_Stupid-crazy idea number fourteen commencing, _Nestor thought, standing up and bolting at the core of the crowd. His arms and legs glowed as he shunted power to his limbs, propelling him into the mass of human bodies like a human battering ram.

The first man he met promptly flew away, shoved into two other soldiers and all falling over like dominoes. The second man acted positively aghast as he was shoved into a trio of raucous sailors. The third man did much the same as the first man, only calling Nestor's mother something unkind as he went sprawling.

Goon after goon, lout after lout, Nestor bashed and batted them to the side, clearing a path for Saga to follow. The shouting became more frantic and enraged as the men slowly realized what was happening, but organized resistance was always a second too late in forming.

Saga ran after Nestor, her daggers spinning out to meet any threats not shoved aside or subdued. Clubs and axes became stumps. Severed bowstrings snapped against their owners. Swords were downgraded to useless hilts. Unarmed men acquired broken noses or throbbing foreheads. Some unlucky sailors felt the cut of the blades, but Saga kept the cuts shallow and to a minimum. She was in too big a rush to stop and make her captors pay in full for their hospitality.

As Nestor neared the walkway, he felt the subdued impact of steel and wood from passing blows. The men ahead of him were grouped into a wall of bodies designed to oppose his charge. He grabbed a luckless, half-dazed soldier along the way, spun once, and threw the poor sap straight into their midst. The men shouted out in disarray and fell or scattered, Nestor using the opportunity to blast past the fallen, shoving a few more out of Saga's path for good measure.

With his battle fervor on full blast and his pulse racing, Nestor felt optimistic about their chances. His method of fast, brutal attack had the disorganized rabble scrambling helplessly for the most part. But battle fervors wear off quickly, and Nestor's optimism hit a snag when he realized he had outpaced Saga too much, the young Seer whipping her daggers around in a constant blur behind him.

Too far behind him. The rabble was recovering and converging on her, not as intimidated as Nestor had hoped. He had to keep the path open.

Standing at the landing ramp connecting the ship to the walkway, he grabbed more luckless, half-dazed men and starting throwing them against the forefront of the crowd, pushing it back. When the supply of victims ran out, he resorted to crates and rope and broken steel. But it was almost as futile as fighting the ocean tide. He'd knock down three or four soldiers, only to see five or six more replace them. The escape path narrowed as rage replaced surprise and fear, Nestor desperately flinging every object at hand against the human wave, no matter how bolted down it was or how much it protested.

As if things weren't bad enough, Nestor spotted an unfriendly-looking half-troll standing on a set of lashed-together barrels above the fray and off to the side. Norom was present, studying Nestor's delaying tactics. Any second now, Norom would surely jump in and ruin Nestor's escape attempt. Why he hadn't done so already was a mystery, but Nestor suspected Norom wanted his future victims to be worn out and manageable. Let the rabble do the heavy lifting – he could clean up afterwards.

Quick-thinking Saga must have seen the same thing. She closed the distance to Nestor and scared off the dozen or so goons in the vicinity with another sweeping display of dagger mastery. She then reversed direction and tossed the daggers over the heads of the crowd, right at Norom… or rather, at the rope supports holding his makeshift pedestal in place. The overconfident troll didn't see her intentions until too late.

The ropes came off cleanly, Norom's weight unbalancing the stack and sending the barrels spilling forward. Norom grunted in surprise as his body fell into a pile of human forms and rampaging barrels, the living wave of Alchemist troops collapsing as the soldiers and sailors dived for safety or were knocked away.

"Go!" demanded Nestor as Saga ran past him, using her returning dagger to puncture a rolling oil barrel, viscous grease pouring onto the deck behind her. Nestor sidestepped the spreading pool and ran for it, laughing when the sound of slipping and tumbling rabble echoed in his wake.

The men still lingering on the walkway did little to resist Nestor and Saga as they ran side by side, most of them stepping out of the way and raising their hands in appeasement. They had watched the two of them in battle, and many of them had already had their rear ends handed to them by Astrid and Linebreaker. One beefy and recalcitrant soldier hadn't gotten the message and decided to get in their way, charging Nestor with his heavy body. Nestor hadn't expected such a blunt move and didn't react in time to stop the man from bouncing off his barrier field and over the side of the walkway.

No time to think, only react. Get across before something happened. No more soldiers stood ahead of them. Astrid and Linebreaker happily waved to them on the tower end of the walkway. Nestor did his best not to think it, but the thought snuck into his mind anyway: _home free_.

Something catapulted out from the ship, crossing dozens of feet in seconds. It launched again as soon as its boots touched the walkway, bounding several times before putting all its energy into one final jump. Its arc was right on target, a dozen feet ahead of Nestor and Saga, hitting the walkway with enough force to make it shake and put a few cracks in the stone finish. Nestor and Saga, thwarted at the halfway point across the walkway, now stood before the one thing Nestor had dearly hoped to not run across again.

"Rematch," sneered Norom.

* * *

Two shots.

That was all Toothless had left in his gas supply. Hiccup had kept track. While Night Furies had a far greater "shot count" than any other dragon, they still had a limit. The long-range tit-for-tat battle had nearly exhausted Toothless's ammo.

Hiccup told Toothless to keep his distance as he sussed out a new plan. Mauled and marked with oodles of scorch marks and holes, the platform still hovered, and while its supply of arrows and fragmenting rocks had to be getting near depletion, it still produced firepower whenever Toothless got close. Its shield, while thinned, could probably block the last of Toothless's fireballs.

He'd seen Nestor and Saga run from the Alchemist's ship, and it thrilled him immensely, but he was equally unhappy to see that troll-guy Nestor had mentioned show up for the fun. He had literally jumped his way to intercepting them. To make matters worse, the half-troll's efforts had boosted the morale of the other troops, a large group of soldiers making their way up the walkway to assist their brutish champion.

Nestor and Saga were cut off and about to get overrun. Hiccup could run interference, but not with the platform still in the air. Arc, standing on the tower's roof and clearly lost in thought, wasn't budging from his tower-opening task to help out. Hiccup understood that their only long-term option for survival was to get inside the Repository, but an extra pair of wings would be really helpful right about now.

They had to change tactics, and Hiccup thought he knew how. He'd been studying the platform's pilot, the guy with the crystal harness. The pilot issued commands by gestures, whether for flying or the shield or the rock cannons. The flying moves were pretty simple. Hiccup, a quick study, thought he had a handle on them.

Hiccup didn't like where he was going with this, but he had no other options. Still, really, this was taking the stupid-crazy concept to a whole new level.

"Bud, listen," he said in Toothless's ear, quickly explaining his idea. It was nice to see his dragon pal thought the same thing as Hiccup, as the look on his face was squarely in the _you really have gone insane this time_ category.

"Please, bud, for the others," he guilt-tripped. "If we don't do this, they don't stand a chance."

Toothless didn't like this, wasn't never going to like this, but he'd learned to trust Hiccup's judgment in these situations. Good dragon.

Toothless approached the platform as he had innumerable times before, jinking to throw off the aim of the archers. Only instead of tossing a fireball and speeding away, he jinked hard _toward_ the platform, flipping over as he flew over the top of the surprised archers. Upside-down, Hiccup let out a yelp as he realized how far above the maelstrom they were… and how close he was to the weapon platform.

With timing well worn from years of stunt flying, Hiccup unfastened everything at once. Free fall was in play as he left the saddle, his body instinctively curling into a ball with his protected forearms around his head. He sailed right through the meager defense shield and rolled as he collided with the deck of the platform.

Thankfully, it was a short roll due to the archer that broke his momentum with his body. That, plus his myssteel armor, kept the pain to a muted thud.

Calling on every ounce of Viking blood coursing through his veins, Hiccup got up and ran for the pilot. The soldiers, flabbergasted by the bold move, dropped their bows and pulled short swords. The pilot could do little but watch Hiccup approach. That was Hiccup's hunch - with that crystal powered up, the guy's arms were slaved to controlling the platform. Defending himself could prove disastrous to the crew.

But he did defend himself anyway, swinging a fist at Hiccup that caused the platform to start spinning in midair, unbalancing the archers. Hiccup threw himself at the pilot and caught his fist, using the pilot's momentum to twist the arm around behind the pilot's back. The pilot cried out in pain as the spinning intensified, Hiccup saved from the g-forces by the fact that he and the pilot were standing dead center.

Hiccup thumped the struggling pilot in the back of the head with an arm guard to get some cooperation, then grabbed the dazed man's other arm and directed him like a marionette. The platform lurched backward, continuing to spin dizzily and pin the archers to the safety railing. Hiccup felt like he was riding a flying deformed crab that had had too much to drink and thought it could dance.

The spinning wasn't so bad. Much less disorienting than a day flying with Toothless. Speaking of which, the dragon was circling the platform and calling out to Hiccup, understandably concerned for his safety. That was okay – so was Hiccup.

Using the pilot's left arm, Hiccup experimented with turning and realized he was not as fluent in platform-piloting as he wanted to be. He settled for waving the pilot's arm in the direction of the walkway, aiming the twisting platform at the midpoint between his friends and the Alchemist's ship.

One of the archers got bold and tossed his short sword at Hiccup. Not a bad shot considering all the spinning, but the blade hit myssteel and nothing else. None of other archers did any better.

He didn't know what would exactly happen when the floating platform met the floating walkway, but he figured a lot of things would stop floating and start falling very quickly… including him.

* * *

Nestor ducked Norom's huge fists over and over, feeling the breeze from each attack. This was a game of dodge – one good hit, even a block, would propel him to a watery death in the maelstrom. The half-troll knew this and kept his cool, avoiding any fancy tricks and settling on preventing Nestor and Saga from moving past him.

Saga unleashed both daggers at once, targeting Norom's stout legs. But the daggers glanced off his barrier field without leaving a mark. Norom ignored her attacks and kept the pressure on Nestor, though he occasionally shoved a fist her way to keep her on edge.

"His field is powerful," said Saga, slightly impressed. "Much stronger than yours."

"Yeah… well… it's how you use it that matters," replied Nestor, jumping back as Norom pounded the stone where Nestor had stood, leaving behind a cobweb pattern in the rock.

"I'm right here, you know," said Norom. "Talking in third person is impolite."

"You don't seem like a brute," said Nestor, getting in a pair of jabs to Norom's stomach before darting away. "Why act the part for the Alchemist?"

"Because she deserves my loyalty." Norom changed tactics and sent his fists into the walkway at full strength, cracking it more and shaking the stone. Nestor and Saga swayed but kept their footing, though that would quickly change if the stone came apart entirely.

"Let me guess: she saved your life," said Nestor.

"No," he refuted. "She did more than that. She gave me the one thing no one else was ever willing to give me – kindness."

"Perhaps you need to get out more," said Saga.

"I don't need to," said Norom. "I have _her_."

He reached down, dug his hands into the cracked stone, and started tearing out a slab of granite as wide as the walkway. Seeing the danger, Nestor rushed the half-troll and smashed his blazing-red arms into the slab, shattering it prematurely.

Norom smiled and pushed his arms through the wrecked slab, sending Nestor sliding backward. Saga cried out as Nestor flailed along the edge, catching the lip with his left arm before his body went completely over.

"No more, brute," said Saga, her daggers lashing out and tagging Norom in the head. Again, no damage, but the impact and flash of metal on magic blinded him momentarily, allowing Nestor the time he needed to get back on his feet.

"This is going to take a while," said Nestor.

"We do not have a while," Saga replied, pointing at the new mob of armed man advancing toward them.

"Well, I'm open to… _SALO KREBIT!_"

He didn't know if the Fates were out to kill him or save him, but the wildly spinning platform bearing down on him made him forget about Norom and remember that total panic had its time and place. He saw it before Saga did, before Norom did, and he reacted by grabbing Saga by the arm and dashing straight at Norom, hoping the half-troll still had self-preservation instincts. The half-troll apparently did, as he saw the oncoming disaster seconds before it hit and ran with Nestor and Saga.

The walkway heaved in the air and contorted in numerous places as the platform ploughed sidelong into it. Strange flashes of color intermingled with violent sprays of rocky debris as the platform's top split from its bottom, the men onboard sailing off the platform and down into the maelstrom. Several sections of the walkway lost their mystical power, gravity reasserting itself and dragging the granite slabs downward, creating a massive gap between the tower and the Alchemist's ship.

The rest of the walkway buckled from the shockwave but stayed afloat, Nestor and Saga and Norom sprawled out on the stone as it shuddered, the three of them watching the platform go through its death dive amidst the stone rain, transfixed by the spectacle.

In the brief moment he had left before Norom resumed the battle, Nestor thought he recognized one of the figures falling to their doom. He hoped he was wrong about who it looked like.

* * *

There was no way to prepare for the impact, so Hiccup didn't try.

One second, he was standing on the roof of a war machine. Next second, he and the crew were flung into the air as if flicked by a frost giant. He let go of the screaming pilot as they fell, the force of the collision carrying them past the rain of debris, giving him an unobstructed view of the monstrous maelstrom. It very much resembled the world's biggest mouth, and Hiccup hated how quickly his mind went to horrifying metaphors.

Much to his surprise, the group-rate freefall he was sharing with the Alchemist's men became a solo event, the other men abruptly slowing down their falls or even reversing course, their screams abating. Not all that concerned with the quick and watery death the maelstrom promised him, he flipped around in midair and watched the not-exactly-falling soldiers begin to move off toward the Alchemist's ship, as if something was yanking them that direction.

He spotted blue-tinged ropes affixed to their waists. No, not ropes. Some kind of energy, a mystical tether that sprang from the gem-encrusted belts the men wore. They were being drawn back to their ship through that special lifeline.

"A life preserver for air travel," said Hiccup. "Now _there's _an idea I'm going to have to work on."

Not that he needed one. More precisely, he already _had_ one. A black form swooped in from the right, wearing an expression of absolute determination. Toothless was already diving in to intercept him, aligning his saddle to Hiccup's body. A move they'd done dozens of times before, though they were usually thousands of feet higher and not under combat situations.

Good dragon.

* * *

While the scowl of his face meant that the latest turn of events had him at a loss, that didn't stop Norom from picking up a fist-sized rock from the debris littering the walkway and chucking it right at Nestor. In fact, his anger gave his toss a little extra oomph.

Focused on the Hiccup-like figure falling to his demise, Nestor took the rock right to his chest. The rock shattered on impact, inflicting no injury beyond his field. But as flatfooted as he was, Nestor staggered backward a few steps before he could regain his balance right at the precarious edge.

Even in their hurried panic, Norom had stayed ahead of them, playing the role of a door very well. More shaken by the shockwave than Nestor, Saga was still struggling to stand when Norom performed another ground pounder, his fists shaking with mystical fury as they cracked the stone. The newest shockwave threw her back to the stone.

Nestor left it entirely.

"NESTOR!" She threw out a hand instinctively, but her arm couldn't grow five feet in a second. She watched as Nestor fell backwards off the broken edge, wordlessly disappearing out of sight.

"No worries, Seer," said Norom, still scowling too deeply to be enjoying Nestor's impending demise. He cocked his hands back for another ground pound. "You'll be joining him… BLARG!"

Something tagged him in the back of the head, a spinning metal weapon far larger than Saga's daggers. It knocked Norom forward a step and then curved around in flight, returning to Astrid's hands as she ran across the walkway, Linebreaker not far behind.

"Stay away from her!" Astrid shouted, cocking her hand back for another throw. Norom faced her and drew up his arm to block the next throw. The only problem was that the next hit took him in the small of the back. Two hits, in fact.

Saga's cold eyes bore into Norom as he faced her again, back on her feet. Such unnerving eyes on her. He might have felt something like fear if he didn't have his wondrous protection between her and him.

He grunted as the daggers found his shoulders, the daggers scratching at his skin.

Then a new blow from behind, that danged axe nailing him between the shoulder blades.

Then two more hits to the front.

Astrid and Saga had the timing down, synching in harmony with each other. A constant barrage of flung myssteel, Saga from the front, Astrid from behind. Norom did his best to dodge, but the weapons assailed him over and over, never giving him a moment to breathe. All the while his field growing weaker with each slash and swipe.

He tried to grab another rock, only to see the rock fall apart in his hands from a deft dagger throw. He tried to rush the Seer, only to have an axe trip him up and force him to his knees. He tried another ground pound, only to have his head ring from three simultaneous blows to the noggin.

The final insult came as a black shadow suddenly soared above the walkway, the unwelcome sight of the Night Fury and the Dragon Rider greeting him. It did a quick loop and dived straight at him, undoubtedly to try and fry him with its blue flames.

But it wasn't fire that greeted him. It was the man the dragon was carrying in his paws.

Nestor plummeted from the sky and planted his feet right in the half-troll's chest, the undeniable strength of the blow sending him toppling over the walkway as the Outlander deftly landed, sporting a grim frown.

What goes around comes around, obviously. Round Two ends in another draw.

"Next time, perhaps," yelled out Norom, letting the fall take him away from the battle for a few seconds before touching a blue gem on his belt. Much like the fools that had let the Hunter get destroyed, he had gone to battle with safety precautions.

Too bad those same precautions wouldn't save him from the Alchemist's temper once she got back.

* * *

"You idiot!"

Saga's invective had the kind of tone reserved for parents who had watched their child survive a great act of stupidity.

"How have you lasted this long with such little awareness of your surroundings?" she added.

"He was right there, you know," said Nestor casually. "Toothless. From what I hear, he spends half his time catching falling Vikings."

Saga let out an exasperated sigh. It was better than admitting that her heart had seized up at the very instant Nestor fell from view… and grew extremely cold. She had wanted to kill Norom very badly. Might have, too, if Nestor hadn't reappeared in Toothless's grasp.

"You owe me a lifetime worth of distractions, Nestor," said Hiccup as Toothless landed on the walkway near Nester and Saga.

"What?" said Nestor. "I never said you had to go insane and start pulling stunts like jumping onto flying platforms and ramming everything around you."

Hiccup dismounted and walked up to Nestor. "If you were better at escape plans, maybe I wouldn't have to."

"Well… it still only worth two distractions."

"Four."

"Three."

"Deal." They shook hands, laughing the whole time.

"You _both_ are idiots," said Saga.

Saga might have said more if Astrid hadn't run past Hiccup and plowed into her, hugging her fiercely. Unused to grandiose displays of affection, Saga managed to accept the embrace without complaint and even hug back.

"I know I shouldn't have worried," said Astrid. "But after what happened…"

"I missed you too, sister," Saga replied.

Then, in a record for facial turnarounds, Astrid's beaming smile went to angry frown in less than a second as she turned on Hiccup. "And as for you…" THUMP! Her fist went right to Hiccup's shoulder. "That's for… Oww!"

Astrid held her hand as her fingers wriggled with pain, Hiccup looking amused. "Huh, one more perk to this suit of mine," he quipped.

She ignored his comment and glared at him. "Hiccup, you're not allowed to keep doing stupid things like you just did, you got it?"

"Okay, sweetie, I'll cut down."

"You better. Oh, and while I'm at it…" She leaned in and gave him a fierce kiss on the lips. "That's for saving the day… again."

"Don't be stupid, but keep saving the day," said Hiccup after coming up for air. "I don't think I can do both, you know."

"Hey, I get some credit here, too," said Nestor.

"Saga can kiss you," Hiccup replied.

Nestor looked at Saga and made a _Well?_ face. Saga held her hand up. "We are not there… yet." The smile on her face promised that the "yet" part wasn't all that far off.

"But we are getting ahead of ourselves," continued Saga. "The day is far from saved, and Qiao requires rescuing."

"I… never expected to hear that from you," said Hiccup.

"Honestly, neither did I," Saga replied.

"Are these kinds of discussions common to this group?" asked Linebreaker, standing quietly at the back of the group and laughing his heart out.


	18. Outclassed?

**Chapter Seventeen: Outclassed?**

The mind of a veteran thief is always thinking about entrances and egresses. Casing a place ahead of robbing it was the best way to come out of a caper with both loot and life. Qiao's mind was tuned to noticing details about residences and businesses such as the size of the windows, the position of the roof to trees or adjacent buildings, or if the cellar has an outside entrance.

So when she came to the bottom of the white tower after descending hundreds of stairs, her attuned mind picked up a lot of physics quibbles. The air smelled fresh, despite the fact that no one had opened the Repository up in ages. The airflow through the tower brought adequate heat to ward off the chill. Light grew more plentiful the further down they traveled. Having raided a few tombs in her time, none of these features worked with her concept of actual tomb environments.

Then she got down to the bottom of the tower, and her uneasy feeling about the place became _very_ uneasy.

An arched entrance led out of the tower and into a sprawling cavern that had to be at least a mile across, maybe wider. The cavern floor was covered in a series of paths and bridges carved out of the stone, the bridges positioned over bubbling pools of lava hundreds of feet below. Many of the paths disappeared into smaller caves, their entrances marked by frescos and carvings full of symmetrical symbols and strange lettering.

Above many of the lava pools were pyramid-shaped stones that hovered in the air, slowly rotating in place and emitting soft white light that went easy on the eyes. As Qiao walked by one of them, she noticed how the fumes from the lava pool were being drawn to the pyramid, the artifact sucking the potentially noxious gases into its mass. She knew enough about Alche's line of work to reason that these things were used to keep the main cave hospitable. No nasty gases, no blistering heat or intense cold, and plenty of light for all.

The tower had deposited them in the center of the cavern, and Qiao had to struggle with a case of awestruck when she looked back at the tower and saw it reaching all the way back up to the colossal ceiling, as high over her head as the lava pools were deep and free of stalactites and other rocky deformities. Crack-free as well, a good thing considering the cave resided underwater.

"Little has changed since I've last been here," commented the Alchemist, a distant look crossing her face. Kong and Sheen, ever the professionals, looked practically bored by the ancient locale of lost secrets.

Alche nodded to Dark Star and the dragon happily took off, spreading her metallic wings for a flight around the cavern. The dragon never liked being cooped up. Qiao's childhood memories often revolved around helping Alche feed, clean, and "fix" the foul-tempered creature during their Time Skips, Dark Star growling and nipping at her as if putting the blame for her temporary captivity on Qiao's shoulders.

"This whole place used to be an island?" asked Qiao.

"More or less," replied the Alchemist. She directed the group to a path on the left and bade them to keep walking. "This whole place used to be Renderson's Island, the smallest island in the Artisan Empire's island chain."

"How did you move it?"

"Through the last, greatest secret the Artisans ever came up with, Qiao."

"Which you're not going to tell me, right?"

"On the contrary," said Alche. "I want you to know this particular piece of ancient knowledge."

Qiao didn't like the sound of that. Alche wouldn't be spilling her guts if she didn't think she had everything under control… and that Qiao wouldn't be spreading secrets around for long.

"Before the End War," said Alche, "we had mastered the art of giving metal life and purpose. We had eradicated disease and famine, transformed our cities into havens of learning and splendor, and kept every form of natural disaster at bay through science and mystical power. We had our eye on the goings-on of every major tribe, kingdom, or empire. We were allied with the most powerful dragon race on Earth. There were no more challenges left for us, no threats to our existence… except ourselves, as we would find out."

"If you had everything, why would you pick fights with each other?"

"Complacency breeds instability, Qiao. If you remove all threats from people's lives, they begin to think they have all the right answers. They begin to think they should bring the rest of the world into the light. There were different camps - some people thought we should expand our empire, absorb other cultures into our midst. Some wanted to remove them entirely, seeing them as potential threats. Some argued for continued noninterference, and some thought we should give these blossoming civilizations help so they could become like us. Eventually, these divisions became sharper, melded into philosophies that ate away at our unity. The threat of a civil war inched closer and closer to becoming a real war.

"So it was that a group of Artisan scientists came to believe that if we did not find a means to unite our people in common cause once more, the Empire would unravel. Hoping to avoid war with the rest of the world as much as with our fellow countrymen, we looked to other venues."

"We? As in you were part of this group?"

Alche nodded. "I was much younger. Far more naïve. I believed that if we could find a new frontier to explore, we could spare the planet the frustrations of our people. I was already well into my research on interdimensional science, so I took it to the next level. I believed we could travel through the dimensional barriers, explore and expand to new worlds. I thought it the best way to focus our people's attention someplace other than our internal strife. Alas, the idea came too late, as war broke out while I was stationed at my private research facility away from the Empire."

Private facility. Qiao guessed that was another name for the Safe House. "But you've always told me that the End War was between the Empire and the Ancestors."

"It was. The ruling body of the Empire had changed hands and the new leaders were a zealous bunch that were determined to start a war with the 'savages' on the other continents. The Ancestors, who had no say in the government, threatened that they couldn't sit idly by and let us ruin innocent lives that were no threat to us. Our leaders decided that anyone who didn't agree with their decision was disloyal, and as you can guess things went downhill from there. I don't know who struck first, but I do know the war came on very quickly. Most of the other scientists were recalled home to work on military projects. But they couldn't recall me because I had learned how to hide my facility using my research. My last act as an Artisan scientist was to work with an Ancestor named X to hide this place – the Repository. For the record, it was not an official act. In fact, it was essentially treasonous."

"X?"

"They weren't good with names. X and I believed that there were too many secrets in this place that could be used for war, and that their use could irreparably harm the planet. So we pooled our collective talents and teleported the Repository to its current location. We also placed a lock on it that needed certain requirements to be met before it was opened."

Alche's face grew graver as they walked over bridge after bridge, Dark Star shadowing them from the air. "I had hoped to spare you from this, Qiao. I hope you believe that."

"I don't know what to believe, Alche," replied Qiao. "But you could make it up to me by giving me a new bow and sending me on my way."

"I can't do that just yet," said the Alchemist. "I still have something to show you."

* * *

"What did I miss?"

Arc's off-hand comment was spoken with little emotion, the dragon resting a claw-hand on one of the pattern-circles etched into the roof of the tower and concentrating or meditating with his eyes closed. Nestor wasn't sure if the old dragon had just attempted a joke or he actually hadn't watched any of the midair battles.

"Could've used you a few minutes ago, Old Man," remarked Nestor.

"You needed me here, opening the lock," rebutted Arc. "And, as you've pointed out repeatedly, I should trust your judgment and capabilities more often than I do. So I did."

"Great, _now_ you have faith in me."

The others were gathering on the roof as well, studying the intricate carvings or marveling at the sight of so much ocean swirling around the tower or keeping an eye on the _Zenith_, still parked on the edge of the maelstrom and showing no signs of leaving. Saga had summarized her six-day ordeal and what little she had learned of the Alchemist's plans to the group, creating a shared feeling of urgency.

It appeared that they were safe for now. There were no more of those battle platforms flying around, the mob of soldiers had returned to the ship and quieted down, and none of the _Zenith's_ archers or armaments could hit them at this range, or at least hit them accurately. Still, Nestor was under no illusions about their situation. The Alchemist had to have more surprises, and he didn't wish to be around to see them.

Arc opened his eyes and made a thoughtful face, his claws tracing several symbols below him. "I would say I understood, but I find the answer generates more questions than before."

"There's a word for that," said Nestor. "It's called lost."

"Let me rephrase," said Arc. "I know how to get inside now, I merely don't understand all the details."

"Does it matter at this stage?"

"It does, to a point." Arc pointed at the other pattern circle. "Stand over there, within the circle. Do not be alarmed by its actions."

Nestor did as told, happy that getting inside didn't require human sacrifice or a riddle. Those were the worst.

As he waited for something to happen, he opted to read a few of the symbols encircling his boots. Some of it was Ancient Artisanae, a dead language he dabbled in on his off-hours. Other symbols were foreign to him, though they had a slight resemblance to Artisanae. A different dialect, perhaps.

"Arc, did you read these?" asked Nestor. "I think I can make out _Artisan here_… as in there are Artisans inside?"

"It means an Artisan must stand where you are standing."

Even though the stone circle had begun to rotate and shift under him, Arc's words proved more unsettling to Nestor. "An Artisan? But I'm not…"

"You're human," said Arc. "That's all that matters."

"And the part you're standing on?"

"It says _Ancestor here_."

Nestor spun around with the rotating pattern-circle, but he kept his baffled face on Arc, whose own circle had commencing rotating as well, the dragon moving with it and keeping his claw-hands in place.

"To answer the dumb question you're dying to ask," said Arc, "no, I'm not an Ancestor. But my Hyperion essence was forged by them, and it's enough to make the lock believe I am an Ancestor."

The central roof doors were sliding open, yet Nestor still couldn't bring himself to care at the moment. "But why would the Artisans create a lock that can only be opened with the help of one of their enemies?"

"I don't know for sure, but perhaps whoever sealed it believed there would come a time when peace returned, and that the secrets within were for the benefit of both races."

Nestor chewed on the idea a bit. "It does explains how Latimar gained entrance, except he needed a human for the other part of the lock."

"He had one." Arc sighed heavily as the revelation hit. "Cervantes."

"_Salo krebit_," said Nestor. "The favor he did for Latimar, which was why Latimar gave him the knowledge that led to him becoming a necromancer."

"And why Latimar felt the burning need to expunge memories from his mind. Cervantes already knew this place existed."

Then the big revelation hit, distracting Nestor enough that he fell over when the pattern-circle ceased its rotation. "But if you need an Artisan and an Ancestor to get inside… and if Saga's correct about the Alchemist being an actual Artisan… and she needed _Qiao_ to get inside…"

"Now you understand my consternation," remarked Arc.

* * *

The chamber Qiao found herself in was a smaller cave with no ceiling, the walls smoothed out like marble and decorated with paintings of various unrecognizable human faces. Qiao wondered if they were historical figures in Artisan history or just some artist's creative splurge.

There was one entrance in and out, Kong and Sheen standing at it like good little lapdogs. In a surprise move, Alche had them remove her manacles as she entered the chamber. Guess they wagered she wasn't going to try anything, and they were right. The walls were too high and too handhold-free to scale, and she wasn't eager for a rematch with Kong and Sheen.

Pedestals and tables littered the chamber, most of them empty, a few of them holding strange objects of indeterminate value. Art or artifact, Qiao couldn't tell. The Alchemist meandered through the chamber, inspecting the objects as if she was an art collector out to broaden her collection.

Another one of those mystical pyramids took up space on a table in the back. Yawn. Yet this one was different from the other mystical pyramids. It was much smaller and narrower, two feet long and half-a-foot wide, and the material appeared to be crystalline instead of stone.

Something about it sparked a memory, and for a precious moment she forgot about her predicament as she realized what she was looking at.

"Is that another T-Node?"

The Alchemist saw what she was looking at and nodded. "So you were listening to my tutoring lessons after all."

"Hardly, but it's hard to forgot some lessons when there's a visual aid on display in your living room." She went over and studied it up close. "Does this one work as well?"

"It's how we moved the Repository, thought we had access to much more power at the time. As for its current-day status, every T-Node had a powercore, so I imagine the network still functions, though I wouldn't risk using it. Twenty thousand years have gone by without anyone activating the network, and the Control Node was lost with the Artisan capital. Not to mention that the other Nodes are likely buried or sunken."

"Like I remember the lesson on how to use it." Privately, Qiao thought she might give it a shot at the point when Alche finally decided that Qiao's usefulness had run its course.

There were glass cases near the pyramid, though the glass had gotten extremely dirty after a few centuries and you couldn't see inside. Qiao's thief instincts begged her to look within, but her survival instincts overruled them. No telling how angry Alche would get if she poked around.

The Alchemist found one of the artifacts intriguing, a leather harness with three power gems built in. Two were quartz-type stones as big as Qiao's pinky, Alche's favorite stone for mystical manipulation, but the middle stone was a dodecagonal gem the size of a cheery tomato. The gem had a real diamond look to it, which would make it a very expensive artifact if it was, in fact, a diamond. The leather had weathered the ravages of time, and Alche went ahead and strapped on the harness, keeping the diamond front and center on her chest

"I hadn't misplaced this after all," she said, rearranging the harness until it was comfortable. "This will even things up should your misguided allies find their way down here."

She went to one of the blacked-out glass cases and rubbed her fingers along a few symbols etched into the glass. She then grasped the top of the case and pulled it open, the hinges creaking loudly. She reached inside and withdrew another diamond-like gem, only this one was the size of a cantaloupe.

"Still playing with gems instead of spending them," said Qiao. "I've always said you could be the world's richest lady if you wanted to be."

"And what would that get me, exactly?" said the Alchemist. "Besides, these gems aren't for sale. Their origin is far more… otherworldly."

"Alien stones, huh? All this trouble for some knick-knacks from another dimension?"

"All this for zanick." Alche placed the stone in a knapsack and touched one of her armguard gems, the one that signaled Dark Star. "A souvenir from my early days in dimensional research. For True Alchemy, there is no better medium. It literally binds the Fold within its very matter. I found this a long time ago, and it is only now that I have the talent to use it to its full potential."

"What potential would that be?"

The Alchemist grinned, and Qiao would have taken a thousand frowns over that darkly superior grin. "Let's just say that all the inventions and weapons you've seen me concoct and conceive are nothing more than toys compared to what I have in store. I've been very busy, Qiao, very busy making things that the world hasn't seen in many millennia. Things the world has never seen before. All I lacked was a power source of sufficient strength."

"I don't get it, Alche. You're alternating between world-domination talk, weapons-dealing talk, and a-better-world talk. Which is it?"

"It's all the same, Qiao. All part of the plan."

"Is this plan full of crazy? 'Cause I'm starting to think that."

"It's about letting the human race do as it will. I have no interest in ruling the planet, Qiao. One cannot _force_ humanity to become better. They have to choose to do so. I intend to merely offer choices. What they do with their choice is on them."

"So says every merchant of death out there," rebutted Qiao. "Is that why you're offering them the Scouring?"

The Alchemist eyed Qiao suspiciously. "Again, part of the plan. Where'd you hear that name?"

"Most people aren't very tight-lipped, Alche. Your crew's no exception. They may not get where that thing comes from, but I do. All that tutoring, remember? More of your inter-dimensional research in action. What'd you find, the Abyss itself?"

"The Scouring is neither good nor evil, Qiao. It simply exists in a different realm than ours, one that is… incompatible with our kind of reality, and it reacts violently to our world. I can focus its attention on one tiny part of the world at a time, and thus I have turned it into a weapon. I'm sure you'd agree that the world _thrives_ on weapons."

"You still think you can make a better world with better weapons? I don't think that's how it works."

"My dear Qiao, you have no idea how it works. But you will… in time."

Like a bat descending from the darkness, Dark Star came in for a landing next to the Alchemist. Together, they went over to the T-Node, Alche lifting it as if it weighed no more than a few feathers. She placed it on Dark Star's back, the dragon patiently waiting as the Alchemist used rope and leather straps to secure the pyramid to the dragon. Qiao noticed the knapsack with the zanick had been attached as well.

"A question, Qiao," she said as she worked. "Did you ever stop to wonder what the Ancestors looked like?"

Out of the blue, much? Qiao shrugged and said, "I figured they were like any dragon. Scaly reptiles with a lot of teeth. They were just more intelligent than the rest."

"Right, much like how humans are more intelligent than their great ape relatives. Intelligence separates us from the rest of the animal kingdom. It's a power in and of itself. Other dragons have two heads or great strength or electrical current running through their skin or razor-sharp wings. The Ancestors were just… smart. But was that all there was to them?"

"Are we really doing a history-biology lesson right now? I'm not in the mood."

The Alchemist finished up her task and turned to Qiao, looking her squarely in the eyes. "Qiao, did you ever ask yourself how the Ancestors got along so well with the Artisans? Considering how humans tend to be xenophobic, considering how they treat each other, wouldn't you say that humans don't deal well with other species unless they can lord over them in some way, such as pets or livestock?"

"Can't say I've had a reason to think about it. I just figured they had found something in common."

"They did, but it was the Ancestors who found it. While there are dragons capable of hiding in plain sight, there was one species that went further. They went so far with it that they were born camouflaged, that their parents had to teach their offspring how to switch back to their original form."

"I still don't see where this is going,' said Qiao.

"Alchemist?" called out Kong, putting the brakes on the conversation as Alche went to see what was riling up the swordsman. Dark Star gave Qiao a nasty glare and bounded over to join the others, leaving Qiao thinking she should probably start the escape planning. She had seen a couple of archways she might be able to jump to on their way back…

"Qiao, I must be going," informed the Alchemist, her tone decisive. "I don't have time to elucidate you further. Your allies continue to be bothersome, and I must deal with them. One of the devices in this room creates wafers that should nourish you, and another creates fresh water. You'll have to deal with the sanitation issue yourself for a while."

Qiao felt a number of different emotions all at once, most of them quite negative, but the one that got her moving was the feeling that she had just been played. It proved to be the correct feeling when she ran smack into a transparent barrier field that had formed just inside the exit archway, the Alchemist and her crew on the outside.

"Alche?" she pleaded, feeling the barrier with her hands. Solid as the walls. Several of the decorative faces were now lit up with an inner glow, and she noticed that their mouths weren't just painted on, but contained little holes with gems sticking out. The chamber had a defense field, which now made the chamber her new prison. Kong, Sheen, and Dark Star wore sneers and scorn, but Alche actually looked almost remorseful.

"I don't want to kill you, Qiao," she said. "I mean that. But I can't have you running free any longer. Not after today. When the world is better, I will return for you, and you can decide then how you wish to proceed."

"ALCHE!" Qiao knew she was wasting her breath, but part of her still couldn't believe it. Her surrogate mother really was leaving her in this lifeless tomb, all alone.

"You knew I was hard, Qiao," said the Alchemist, as she and her lieutenants moved off. "This shouldn't come as any surprise. But let's face it – all things considered, this is the best thing I could've done for you."

* * *

"I really don't love this place," Hiccup snarked. "If the goddess of Hel needed a vacation home, she'd pick here."

"At least it's not freezing," replied Astrid, "and the lava pools add character."

Hiccup, Astrid, and Toothless were the first to reach the bottom of the tower, the three of them gawking at the mammoth cavern with its magic pyramids and bountiful bridges. Toothless had his ears and nose primed to pick up a trail, but he wasn't exactly a bloodhound and he didn't know Qiao's voice well enough to pick her out at a distance. The odds of him finding her without more clues to go on weren't great.

Arc fluttered down to the tower's bottom floor with Nestor, Saga, and Linebreaker on his back, having pulled the same trick as Toothless. With too many stairs to traverse, it was quicker to do a controlled fall. The tower was wide enough to accommodate dragon wings, but it still made for a tense descent.

"Anything, bud?" Hiccup asked his dragon-class bloodhound. Toothless shook his head in the negative.

"Anyone else feel that this place could use a touch more color?" remarked Linebreaker as he and the others entered the cavern, Arc squeezing his scaly body through the archway.

"Oh, so it's not just me?" said Hiccup.

"This place is under some kind of spell," said Saga. "I feel like bees are making a beehive in my mind."

"Are you about to faint again?" asked Nestor.

"No, but the feeling I have is not all that dissimilar. This place is not properly aligned with our world."

"I'd ask you to explain that," said Astrid, "but I think I'll sleep better not thinking about it too much."

"Ancient mysticism is what we're dealing with, Young Astrid," said Arc. "This place holds the knowledge of the Artisans at the height of their power."

"Any insights, Old Man?" asked Nestor.

Arc gazed out at the cavern with a thoughtful expression. "I've spent all this time fearing that this was yet another dumping ground of deadly secrets. Perhaps it still is, yet I feel that the intention of this place was not to win a war, but to rebuild a shattered society. I swore to Adon that I would destroy it, yet… is that really the proper course of action? I could spend a few lifetimes exploring and learning the secrets of this place."

"The Artisans are gone, Arc," said Nestor. "All but the Alchemist, and look what she's doing. You think the world's ready for all this?"

Arc shook his head. "No, not yet. It'd be like babies playing with catapults. Still, to outright destroy it…"

"How about we worry over the societal implications later," said Hiccup, "and just focus on finding Qiao and the Alchemist?"

"Agreed," replied Arc. "I suspect there are no Guardians or other defenses in place, as we should have already encountered them by now."

"Should we do the smart thing and stick together?" asked Linebreaker. "Or be typical fools who split our numbers and get picked off one by one?"

"We should hunker down here, by the entrance," suggested Hiccup. "This is the only way out, isn't it? The Alchemist has to come back this way."

"Your idea has merit," said Arc. "Except that we wouldn't be able to ambush the Alchemist standing here, out in the open."

"At least we'll see them coming," said Astrid.

Toothless chose that moment to whip his head around in alarm, facing the nearest bridge and growling like he'd seen another Red Death approaching on a strafing trajectory. Everyone went on instant alert, readying weapons and powers, even though no threat was visible.

Tense seconds ticked on by, no one daring to move off to search or declare that it was a false alarm. Invisible dragons had a way of making people exceedingly nervous. It was Arc who finally took action, walking toward the nearest bridge and standing before it like a guard expecting a toll.

"I can see you, Alchemist," yelled out Arc. "You and your minions might as well face us in the flesh."

In the anxious silence that followed, a sigh could be heard from the direction of the bridge. The voice's owner shifted in view, along with her two henchmen, as if steeping from behind a phantom wall. Her clothes shone with a deep-red luminance, the light source being the unique gem housed in the harness she wore. No Metal Fury was with her, but that didn't ease any troubled minds at all. Her two minions had their weapons drawn, Sheen with a feisty sneer and Kong with a flat expression.

"It was worth a try," commented the Alchemist.

"It's you," said Hiccup, immediately recognizing the brown-haired woman. "The lady from the Open Museum." He turned to Astrid. "See, not crazy after all."

"It seems I should've taken Cragfist's warnings about your little group more seriously," said the Alchemist. "I should've been thorough in dealing with you and not rush things. Live and learn… well, for some of us."

"The one and only Alchemist," said Arc. "A living relic of the Artisan Empire. Under different circumstances, this would be a time to stop and discuss our shared history."

"And you are one of the Hyperion," said the Alchemist. "One of the last living reminders of a glorious species. Do you mean to rekindle a dead conflict, dragon?"

"We're here for Qiao, Alchemist," demanded Arc, stepping forward in a threatening manner. Her two lieutenants stepped forward as well, as if begging for a battle. If they realized how outnumbered and outclassed they were, they didn't show it.

That was what worried Hiccup – who were the outclassed ones here?

"Is that all, Hyperion?" countered the Alchemist. "Here for one lowly thief somewhere in this hallowed place of power and secrets? You expect me to believe that?"

"Where's the Night Fury?" questioned Arc. "We know she's your slave."

"Slave?" The Alchemist's tone dripped with offence. "Slave?" She turned her head and called out into the cavern. "DARK STAR? ARE YOU A SLAVE?"

The response came swiftly, a dark shadow materializing above the Alchemist and then falling down behind her. Hiccup and the others watched, amazed and horrified, as the metal-covered dragon strode up to her side, her red eye pulsing with awareness and hostility.

"Dark Star, you're free," the Alchemist declared. "Do as you wish. Fly away and never return, if you so desire."

The dragon's reaction was to nuzzle her hand like a cat might, then whirl on the gathered interlopers, glaring and growling its imitation Night Fury voice.

"A loyal species, Night Furies. I am no brutal taskmaster, Hyperion. My people follow me for the same reasons your Viking friends follow you."

"Not a… ah, forget it," said Nestor.

"If you truly care for Qiao," said the Alchemist, "then leave. Qiao is safe, and will remain that way."

"You expect us to believe that?" shot back Astrid.

"I will make all of you this one offer," the Alchemist went on. "I will not insult you by suggesting you join my army, so I offer this: go home. Leave here and eek out your lives as you see fit. You may have years and years to enjoy if you go. Stay… and all of you will meet your ends on this day."

Arc twisted his head to give the group his attention. "If anyone wishes to take her up on her deal, now's the time to say so."

"While I don't wish to overstay my welcome," said Linebreaker, "I came to get my friend back, and I shall stay until that occurs."

"I know the possibilities, Alchemist," said Saga. "There are no years and years awaiting us."

"We didn't came all this way just to flip-flop and go home," said Nestor.

"Besides, we do this kind of thing all the time," said Astrid. "It's an occupational hazard."

"It's what you do when you stand for something… or someone," said Hiccup. "You get in the way of the bad guys."

"So I have a counter-offer, Alchemist," said Arc. "Your men are in disarray, you're cut off from your ship, your weapons platform is rubble, and your only path is through us. You surrender now, and we can all walk out of here."

The Alchemist laughed at the idea and touched the gem on her harness, causing it to glow anew. "Now why would I settle for doing something as prosaic as walking?"

The glow shot out and encircled the Alchemist in a sphere of crimson energy, the sphere defying physics as most of her devices had a habit of doing, floating a foot off the bridge like a well-behaved bubble. She raised her hands above her head, the timing coinciding with a sudden rumbling coming from the pit below her bridge.

Arc immediately opened fire on the Alchemist, sending multiple lightning strikes against her field. The lightning diverted around the field instead of hitting it, the blasts flying off to strike the caverns walls or redecorate random archways.

The battle was on. Toothless didn't even wait for Hiccup to get back on the saddle before he was leaping into flight, leaving his speechless rider in the dust. Dark Star was already airborne, the two dragons commencing a deadly aerial dance. Astrid and Saga charged in, only to be met by Kong and his twin blades. Sheen became a whirlwind of chain links and ferocity as Nestor and Linebreaker tried to bypass her.

Forgotten on the ground, Hiccup helplessly watched Arc take to the air and circle the Alchemist, looking for an opening or weak spot in her magic, only to break off as thin green rays of death peppered the air above him, Dark Star driving him away from her master.

He watched helplessly as the Alchemist moved out over open air, her hands still raised as if petitioning a god for assistance. While a god didn't answer, the lava did. A column of hissing molten rock rose from the pit like a red-hot cobra, rearing tall over the group and preparing to fall on an unknown victim.

Yeah, the true owner of the "outclassed" label was up for debate.

* * *

Norom stood on the viewing deck of the _Zenith_, clenching and unclenching his fists to burn off his dangerously high frustration level. The problem with having troll blood running through your veins is that your first instincts involving anger management were centered on smashing and punching and stealing things. Not good in polite company, or when you were trying to contain a bad situation.

The crew was scattered about the ship, weary, enraged, injured or tending to the injured. The escape of the Seer, the loss of the Hunter Platform, and the destruction of the sole entrance to the Repository – any one of them would have been enough bad news for one day. Altogether, the lump sum of defeats felt like a hammer had just driven a hundred nails into his skull.

He trusted the Alchemist to save the day. She always saved the day. The Repository was her old home, and that gave her home turf advantage. But after watching the Dragon Rider and his friends in battle, after the stinging losses and the humiliation of getting bested in front of his men, a degree of doubt wasn't unreasonable.

He had ordered another Hunter Platform to be prepared ASAP, but it would take time to assemble it from storage. Too much time. The Alchemist would win or lose the day before it was air-ready.

For now, he held his post to await her return. That was what she expected of him. That was what he would do.

"Sir?"

A young whelp meekly tugged at his shirtsleeve, not wanting to disturb Norom but attempting to do so anyway. Probably lost at drawing straws.

"Yes?" Norom's tone heavily implied that the whelp would be in a world of horrific pain should the news not be worthy of the interruption.

"Sir, we sent Nash down to the main hold a short time ago and he hasn't returned."

"And you 're telling me this instead of searching for him yourselves."

"Well…" The young man knew this was going to look cowardly no matter what, so he just went and said it. "What if one of those champions snuck into the hold?"

"Champions?" The name raised Norom's dander back to dangerous levels. "Is that what you called them?"

"That's… that's the name we're giving them, sir," said the man, fear of imminent hurting etched on his face. "They did kick a lot of…"

Norom pushed him aside and made a beeline to the main hold's stairway, where a crowd had formed near the entrance. Sick of cowardice, sick of failure, sick of babysitting these mewling infants, he waved at the crewmen to get out of his way. Partly relieved, partly freaked out, the crowd parted to let Norom by.

It did register on him that all the glow-crystals in the hold were off, something that shouldn't ever happen, but his mood was so riled that all he could think of was how many broken bones in Crewman Nash's body it would take to make him feel better. He was thinking in the twenties. Nash had to have nipped in here for a drink or maybe a good nap. Hope it was worth the convalescing.

He stood in the near-darkness, listening for snoring or sloshing liquid. The Outlander had been correct about Norom's barrier field, as he didn't really know how to control it or even trigger it to give him light. So when it did trigger, illuminating the room and its contents, it was due to the cold metal hands gripping his shoulders, and gripping him none too gently.

Norom saw the thing embracing him plain as day, and he felt an unfamiliar emotion. He hadn't felt it since the day he had joined the ranks of the Alchemist's troops, since putting on the special belt that made him almost unstoppable in battle and protected him from all injury. Honest fear came back to him as he gazed into the horrible thing's blazing white eyes.

He struggled in its grip, but his Samson-class strength was gone. Orange ribbons of energy were running off his arms and into the thing's body, the color darkening as the ribbons grew thinner. He now knew his true plight, and his fear intensified.

It was feeding off his barrier field. And if the cruel smile gracing its steel face was any clue, it liked it a lot.

* * *

Cragfist tried to nurse the bump on his head the way Gunnarr were taught to – ignore the pain and strut around like it was no big thing. Seeing two of everything wasn't helping him pull it off, especially after tripping on the stairs to the deck when he mistook a phantom step for the real thing.

"Scumbag Outlander," he muttered, stopping in the middle of the stairway to allow the world a chance to stop spinning. "Coward."

Insults were pointless. There was no one to hear him complain, and that was for the best. His mortally wounded pride couldn't take any more stabs to the back. He wanted to go to his cot and sleep away the indignity and anguish, maybe decide on some famous last words before he was punished for his idiocy, but he needed to see what happened to his sister. He needed to see if the Recorder had made good on its promises. He needed a reason to not throw his pathetic self off the ship and into the maelstrom.

As soon as he cleared the stairs, he found his reason. Even with his vision fuzzy, the reason was as obvious as a walrus's tusks.

It stood next to the open cargo hold, a creature of shiny metal shaped like the skeleton of a winged dragon. Balanced on its hind legs, it towered close to ten feet from skull to toe bone, though it looked bigger with its wings outspread and twitching tail. Two-dozen ribs made up its rib cage, a long skull housing burning white eyes and three rows of predator teeth. Dagger-sharp claws were affixed to human-like arms and hands, one of which held the Alchemist's favorite half-troll by the neck, his feet dangling like rag doll legs.

The creature's skin held veins that contained faintly visible luminance, as if its heart pumped light instead of liquid. It moved like a living thing, holding out Norom like it was presenting a trophy to the gathered crew, most of who were staring at the thing with absolute horror. They were used to being on the giving end of surprises, not the other way around.

It relished the confusion and terror it generated, and when it spoke, its eyes flashed with its words, as if it was talking through the wrong orifice.

_Here is proof that I'm not to be trifled with,_ it said, its voice strong and forceful… and extremely familiar. It wasn't like the voice in his head from before, which had been feeble and pleading in tone.

Whether from the crack to his head or this newest unhappy revelation, Cragfist felt very faint. Luckily he had adequate manliness to stay on his feet, but he now had no doubts that the Gods truly hated him.

The metal creature dropped Norom to the deck, the half-troll unresponsive but breathing. _I intend to take command of this vessel, and I would welcome any and all assistance in that matter. You have two options: help me, or stay out of the way. _

"You can't take over this ship," declared one of the less terror-stricken soldiers. "We follow the Alchemist."

_Then follow her right now_.

The creature pointed its right hand at the outspoken soldier, palm out. A narrow beam of pearl-colored lightning found its target, electricity coursing like frenzied ants all over his body, launching the screaming soldier into the air and over the side of the ship, where the maelstrom awaited its prize.

The crew was too shocked by the sudden and efficient dispatch that all they could do was continue to look horrified. The creature used the moment to press its point.

_You can resist if you like. You might even win the battle. But many of you, if not most of you, will perish as a result. Is the Alchemist worth such sacrifice?_

Maybe it was the fact that most of the crew were former pirates and loyalty was not their best quality. Maybe it was Norom's prone body displayed like a bearskin rug or the abrupt death of one of their own. Maybe it was the lack of their leader's comforting presence. Whatever the case may be, the men took a moment to murmur and whisper amongst themselves, then the crew's murmuring grew louder and louder until the self-preserving cry to let the inhuman thing call the shots became deafening.

Cragfist thought sitting down again would help him sharpen his mind, but all it did was keep the fainting spell from becoming overwhelming. His outlook did not improve. If he thought he could get away with crying in front of everyone, he might have let the tears flow.

The irony was that the Gods had given him what he wanted – a change in leadership to someone with his interests in mind. He certainly got that. He couldn't imagine anyone hating his enemies more than the monstrosity formerly known as Cervantes.


	19. Fighting History

**Chapter Eighteen: Fighting History**

The glass case was not made of glass, at least not glass that Qiao considered glass. It didn't even scratch or dent when Qiao used one of the useless relics lying about to smash it open. After several strikes, the tiny statue of someone-presumably-famous-in-Artisan-circles fell apart in Qiao's hands, covering the top of the case in stone crumbs and broken parts.

Still, she felt better for ruining one of Alche's possessions. Alche could make this her prison, but she didn't have to keep it tidy. What other precious memorabilia could she afford to break?

"Qiao, kid, you're cracking up," she mused out loud. "What happened to the best thief in all of Riki Poka?"

She got herself captured by her surrogate mother, that's what. And it wasn't like she hadn't searched the place top to bottom for a hidden door. This was not a cage with a lock that she could pick. This was the Alchemist's former domicile inside the Repository, designed to keep the interior things inside and the exterior things from becoming interior things. If she could fly, it would be a different story, but for all she knew that mystical field covering the entrance extended to the ceiling.

So she was obeying her first instincts – raid the secure stuff.

Alche did think ahead. She wouldn't keep her wayward ward someplace with a secret escape hatch or a spare key under the fifth brick to the left. The glass case was sealed tight, and for all she knew they might contain the mummified remains of one of Alche's dead relatives. But she didn't have anything else to do, so why not find out for sure?

She saw Alche get inside the other case, and all she had to do was lift the top up. There hadn't been a hidden clasp, and she didn't say any magic words. What did she do?"

Qiao then saw the scratched-in symbols on the glass-like material, a series of marks that resembled the ones on the other case that Alche had opened. At the time, Qiao didn't think much of it. A labeling system, most likely. But now that she wasn't fuming as vehemently as before, she recollected that Alche had touched the symbols before opening the case itself.

Not just touching them. She touched them in a specific order.

Great, an alchemical combination lock. Her least favorite type of lock. Now she wished she had paid more attention. All she remembered was Alche's fingers touching four spots on the glass, which meant the combination was four symbols long. Or it was for the other case. This case might have a completely different combination, though Qiao doubted it. Why go to the trouble of creating separate codes for an ancient vault that almost no one could get into?

Eight symbol choices, four spots to choose, and the symbols might repeat themselves. That gave her a grand total of… um… okay, _a lot_ of combinations.

Qiao gave it a whirl by touching the first symbol, three hash marks surrounding a stick figure with wings. The symbol didn't glow or vibrate or do anything incriminating. She touched it three more times. Nada.

She sighed. One down, thousands to go.

* * *

She was not family.

That painful fact had driven Toothless into the air without his beloved rider, had bade him to engage Dark Star alone and drive her off. Her cry of anger and bloodlust may have sounded like traditional Night Fury utterances to the others, but Toothless knew the hidden context of the cry. It was what Night Furies said to their enemies before they charred them into oblivion.

_You are not family_, the cry said, _and you threaten mine._

But even then, there were certain lines that Night Furies didn't cross. You didn't kill your own, especially when your kind was all but gone from the planet. She fumed at Toothless as he charged and dived her, but she would not fire upon him. Her loyalty to her master was in conflict with her kinship to Toothless, and Toothless had gambled that he could use that to keep her away from _his_ family.

Had Hiccup gone with him, all bets would have been off. Dark Star would likely have blasted him right off his back.

It worked at first. Toothless and Dark Star performed a repeat of the game of chase from days ago, the dragons swooping through the cavern like bats on the warpath. They circled each other, Dark Star always a wing beat ahead of him, the friendly competitiveness of earlier replaced by snarls and fully bared teeth.

Then Arc went and ruined the tactic. For such a smart dragon, he didn't know a thing on how Night Furies operated. Dark Star saw him menace her master, and she quickly banked away from Toothless, firing off several green energy beams from that empty space in front of her mouth. They weren't the thick blasts of destruction that Toothless had witnessed before, which meant she could control the intensity. Nor were they any more accurate, as they all missed Arc. But she didn't relent, and soon Arc was flying toward the ceiling, Dark Star pursing like a bird pursuing a moth.

Toothless couldn't hope to distract her now. He kept on her tail, always a wing beat behind, as Arc twisted and turned to throw her off, but he would have had better luck escaping the pull of the earth than outmaneuvering a Night Fury, even a metal one. Arc was so busy dodging that he couldn't fire back at her, the green dragon gritting his teeth as he pulled more hard turns than he'd done in centuries.

One of Dark Star's death rays shaved off the tip of one of Arc's spinal spikes. Her aim was improving. Toothless noticed a slight delay in her blasts, the point between the energy coalescing and then shooting forward. She hadn't learned to correct for the delay on a moving target, but she was getting there.

Toothless had enough combustion gas leftover from his earlier battle for one good shot. Part of Dark Star was still Night Fury and thus fireproof, but her metal parts might not be. One good shot might take her down… kill her.

Kill his own kind… the only one he knows still lives.

Caught on the cusp of an irreversible decision, Toothless chased her as she chased Arc, knowing that Arc's time was about to run out… and that his time was just as limited.

* * *

Kong pointed his blades at Saga and Astrid, one blade per person. Saga had her daggers on guard, Astrid her axe. Their eyes did their battling for them, a prelude to the real fighting soon to come.

"I am Kong of the Alchemist…" began Kong.

"We know already," interrupted Astrid. "Just like you should already know you can't beat the both of us."

"I tested you back in Riki Poka, but you have not tested me," he replied.

"Then let us quiz you," said Saga, smacking his sword away and lunging in with her left dagger.

Kong snapped his sword back and easily deflected it, his right sword moving in for a lunge of his own. Saga sidestepped it to let Astrid swing away, aiming the flat of her axe for his face. Kong did some sidestepping of his own, ducking the attack and back slashing with his right sword. Astrid spun away in time to avoid losing a kidney, but Kong's super-sharp sword clipped Astrid's ponytail and sent half of it flying down a lava pit.

"Okay, _that_ did it," Astrid growled, steamed over her impromptu haircut. "_No one_ touches the hair."

Blades collided and clanged as Saga and Astrid went at Kong, the agile swordsman keeping his swords on the move. While he kept them both at bay with expert parries and thrusts, the ferocity of their attacks forced him to retreat up the stone bridge, narrowing their battlefield and offering a hot end to unwary combatants who stepped too far to one side.

Astrid and Saga fell into a complimentary pattern of partnership fighting, keeping out of each other's way and coming to the rescue when it looked like Kong was about to get the upper hand. Kong was too good to take on alone, his skill easily on par with Saga, but all those months of training had created a warrior bond between them. They knew what to expect from each other, to anticipate the other's moves, and their combined prowess was more than Kong could handle.

Not that Kong showed it. His face never changed, not to grunt in exertion or blanche when a near miss almost removed a tattoo from his scalp. A very cool customer, even more so than Saga.

Astrid felt the bridge shutter as something slammed it, the stone creaking in places it shouldn't be. She thought about getting off it, but Kong wasn't about to let her retreat, pressing Saga whenever Astrid moved too far away. Saga acted unconcerned, though she was so caught up in fighting Kong that she hadn't noticed the growing unstableness of their arena.

Astrid's uneasiness grew understandably worse when the rear section of the bridge unexpectedly crumbled behind her, a wave of ghastly heat enveloping her as a column of lava punched through the stone. The bridge was well supported, so she wasn't in danger of falling through, and the snake-like column was far enough back not to bake her outright, but the resulting destruction had cut off their escape route.

Caught between a Kong and a hot place. Astrid didn't know which was worse.

* * *

Linebreaker and Nestor would have liked to engage the woman warrior more close-up, but the way she kept flailing her myssteel chain made it like sticking your arm into a barrel full of wolverines.

Linebreaker had gone for the direct approach, his cutlass leading the way. Sheen's reaction was to throw out her chain and grapple his sword arm. She yanked down and moved in to kick Linebreaker right in the jaw, knocking him back before she yanked him back in for a second kick.

Nestor saw the pattern and grabbed the chain wrapped around Linebreaker's arm, yanking it his way with his enhanced strength. Sheen ducked his punch and spun around them, taking her half of the chain down and around both men's legs, wrapping them up and then pulling hard. Tangled in the chain, Nestor and Linebreaker yelped as they toppled, Nestor sparing them a painful thud by rolling and igniting his barrier field.

The chain must not like barrier fields, as it released Linebreaker's arm and reeled backward, curling around Sheen's arms like a shiny metal python. More of that myssteel bonding power in action. A gloating smile greeted them as they stood up, Sheen clearly enjoying the moment.

"You boys and your fancy weapons," she stated. "Put a samurai against a ninja, and the samurai panics, because the ninja fights to win."

"I do not like this woman," said Linebreaker. "Chains should never be a clothing accessory."

"She is abrasive," said Nestor. "Not enough love in her childhood."

"My family loved me just fine," she argued. "I just don't have any need for love."

"Oh, joy, a sociopath," said Nestor.

"Pretty much," she added, commencing with the wild chain swinging. For all the seemingly random swipes she took, she always managed to get it to hit where she wanted it. Linebreaker's sword got batted from his hand when he made another attempt, and Nestor took a chain link to his stomach for his efforts, forcing him to divert more power to protection than to offense.

Nestor looked around for something to throw, preferably something heavy and pointed, but for an ancient tomb the Repository was remarkably debris-free. No loose rocks or broken sculpture or the decaying bones of dead rats. For the first time Nestor realized how preserved everything was, how immaculate and cared for.

He felt guilty having to punch the side of the archway for a bit of rock to throw. Defacing history, that was what he was doing. But when his punch only produced a few cracks and a handful of pebbles, guilt was no longer a problem. The place was _well_ preserved.

When the column of lava erupted off to the side, taking part of a bridge with it and cutting off Saga and Astrid, he almost vaulted over to rescue them. But that would leave Linebreaker with a chain-crazy woman with no need of love. He couldn't do that to him.

Even worse, the same wiggling column of steaming lava was making its ways along the side of the archway, as if coming after him and Linebreaker. For all he knew, that's exactly what it was doing.

Unusual behavior for lava.

* * *

For all his general dislike of weaponry and fighting, Hiccup sorely wished he had put down _make a myssteel dagger_ on his to-do list. Being stranded on the ground left him with very few options otherwise.

He did have a nice view of the Alchemist's efforts to kill his friends and loved ones. Still surrounded by that crimson orb of hers, she wiggled her hands at the bridge Astrid and Saga had crossed during their battle with the bald-headed swordsman, Kong. The column of lava obeyed her command and smashed itself against it, flinging molten rock in all directions and melting the bridge more and more with each strike.

The final blow tore the bridge in half, sending the broken half down into the waiting lava flow and severing Astrid from Hiccup. She was on the other half and safe for now, but if the Alchemist wanted to she could repeat the process and finish off the bridge.

Hiccup felt his soul shudder as he realized how useless he was right now. Toothless fought in the air without him, Astrid fought on a crumbling bridge without him, and all his friends and allies were in mortal danger. And he couldn't do a thing about it.

The Alchemist made more hand gestures and the column of lava moved through the gap in the ruined bridge, heading for Nestor and Linebreaker. There was no bridge to break there, so she had to be targeting Nestor and Linebreaker directly.

He had to do something, anything.

The destroyed bridge did leave a few pieces of rubble on the side, much of it red hot and ashy but a few pieces were touchable. Hiccup ran over and picked up a fist-sized stone. It was about as basic a weapon as you could get, but it was all he had.

With the Alchemist ignoring him completely, it was easy for Hiccup to get in close, right up to the don't-look-down edge of the pit. He cocked his hand back and let loose the rock, right at the Alchemist's head.

Well, that was the idea, anyway. The rock only got halfway there. Stupid lack of muscles.

It did get the Alchemist's attention, for what good it did. And to her credit, she didn't laugh at him. "A rock? Are you really that helpless without your dragon?"

"Well… I have this indestructible armor." Hiccup tapped his armor, hoping she would recognize the myssteel and rethink his threat level. Maybe he could be a distraction.

The column of lava did halt its advancement as the Alchemist stared at him disbelievingly. That was something. "We both know myssteel isn't indestructible. Care to try again?"

"Okay, how about we talk about the history lesson you gave me in Riki Poka. Was that just a game to you?"

"That was curiosity. I wanted to know you a little bit better."

"Why, so you could defeat me better?"

"I already had you defeated, Dragon Rider. I merely have a soft spot for fellow innovators. And despite the company I keep, I don't find the wanton destruction of life desirable. I hoped you'd live. I hoped you'd take the hint."

"By being cryptic?"

"By letting you know how futile it is to fight history." The Alchemist floated closer to Hiccup, dust trails fleeing before her as she moved. Hiccup felt something pushing at him as she neared him, as if the air was water and a type of current was shoving him.

"This isn't just me you fight, Hiccup. This is old science and old magic. This is the nature of the life and the universe, primordial forces you and your friends have decided to oppose. This is what life is – living until something makes you stop living. All the rest of it is just self-created padding by people too myopic to see the big picture. Life is a cycle that repeats itself, over and over, until the cycle finally ends. Everything you do will eventually unravel. All you can do is enjoy what you have when you have it. It's futile to waste your life stopping the inevitable."

"So I should go home and stick my head in the sand?" Hiccup replied. "For all you think you know about me, you obviously didn't do all your research."

"Clearly," she agreed. "Now, if you don't mind, I have to finish this up."

She turned away from him and started up the hand waving again, the column of deadly lava resuming its progress. For all his efforts, the situation hadn't changed. The only insight he had gained involved the Alchemist's orb, which he had believed to be a barrier field similar to Nestor's, except that, up close, it mostly resembled a harmless lightshow and not a solid field of energy. Yet the force it projected was solid, pushing everything away. The closer you got, the fiercer the push.

Like that would help him right now. Nestor was about to get flattened and liquefied, and there was nothing he could do about it.

* * *

When he said he wanted a new body, Cervantes had hoped for something more… human. He felt very disconnected in this new form, the world filtered through a prism of unfeeling steel. He didn't even need to breathe. He missed that part the most, as it reminded him that for all his necromantic arts he still had a life.

Who was he now? Cervantes, or a memory of a Cervantes?

Such questions tired him out. He'd already spent way too much time dwelling on such thoughts while he was stuck in his protective cocoon. He was out now, and he had new toys to play with.

_Move Norom to a holding cell_, he ordered a pair of anxious soldiers. _When he comes to, I wish to discuss matters with him._ They went off to drag the Alchemist's right-hand half-troll away.

The Alchemist's crew darted about the Zenith, looking at him as little as possible and preparing for the real fun. It was a truly rare moment when you had all your enemies in the same location, unaware of your upcoming retribution. He wanted to savor this for a minute. As numb as his body was to physical sensation, he still had the power to savor.

Too bad he hadn't yet figured out how to convert his metamorphic body to his old human shape. This skele-dragon form was another memory imprint salvaged by the Recorder. In time, he might learn how to override. For now, he was stuck as a horror. At least it made intimidating the crew easier.

"Just get it over with," asked the voice to his back.

His savoring thwarted, Cervantes twisted his metal neck to find Cragfist behind him, the despondent Viking pointing to his own chest as if suggesting the quickest way to his heart was through his rib cage.

"Send me to my ancestors, devil-man," said Cragfist, meaning every word. "I don't wish to wait for you to dispose of me as you did my father."

Such despair in his voice. If he had a heart, it might have felt something for the man. _Don't you wish to die in battle?_

"I'm sure getting killed by you will count."

_Very well,_ said Cervantes. _Stand there and prepare for death._

The foolish Viking did just that, closing his eyes and mumbling a Nordic prayer in preparation of his trip to Valhalla… or, more likely, Hel.

Cervantes raised a claw, aimed it at Cragfist's chest, cocked it back… and then proceed to chuckle. It came out more like a cough. He hadn't quite mastered audible communication yet.

_I jest, Cragfist. I need you around still. I can't trust this lot to behave. If I remember correctly, you were always looking for reasons to crack a whip._

For a man who just got a stay of execution, Cragfist looked displeased at Cervantes' idea of humor. "I wish for death, necromancer."

_Perhaps I'll grant it some day. For now, I have bigger fish._

"You _owe_ me this, Cervantes. I helped you. Now you must help me."

_Killing you is not helping you, nor am I finished with you. _The light from his sockets had a menacing glow to it. _Persist, and I promise you that death will not come to you quickly nor painlessly. _

That got the point across. Cragfist slowly walked to Cervantes' side, ducking under his skeletal wings, and stared forlornly at the maelstrom. "You're a curse on my family, devil-man. I can never be rid of you."

_My survival is a much a surprise to me as it is to you. My last happy thought was over two months ago, as I toyed with the Dragon Rider and Archibald's lackey within the bowels of my new body. Then the Dragon Rider made good on his threats, and I found myself dying from the inside out. Not a desirable feeling in the slightest._

_Then I woke at the bottom of the North Sea, wrapped in the charred remains of my former body. The Artisans think of everything, evidentially. They sought to preserve the mind of the Monolith's pilot by having it eject the core component of its brain. The Recorder, as it were. Thus I was spared a spectacular end. Alas, there was little energy left in my body and all I could do was sit there in the wet and the cold and the dark, brooding on life's little ironies._

"My sorrow for you knows no bounds," said Cragfist unsympathetically. "I wish the Alchemist had left you rusting on the bottom of the sea."

_Such venom, Cragfist_, said Cervantes, amused by the Viking's futile hostility. _The Alchemist is the true villain here. I thought you knew that much._

"As many have pointed out, I know very little."

_Indeed. Then know that the Alchemist and I met a few years ago, a chance encounter when she first emerged from her own cocoon. We could have easily exchanged hostilities, but instead we found each other… intriguing. She knew so much about the Artisans that I desired to know more about her. And through me, she wished to know more about the world. All the while I thought I could use her for my own aims, but I soon realized how powerful she truly was… what her aims truly were. Not even my own formidable skill in the death arts could stop her, and I would've been foolish to try. I had to find a means to overcome her._

"So that's when you strolled into my clan and ruined my life."

_Near the end of my travels, yes, I sought out your people. The Monolith was the only weapon I knew that could oppose her. But much to my regret, it wasn't as unstoppable as I'd hoped. And the Alchemist clearly didn't trust me to not interfere. My presence here proves that she has been keeping an eye on me. We both knew about this place._ Cervantes gestured to the great tower in the center of the wicked maelstrom. _I had bragged once about seeing the Repository opened to the sky. She thought that meant I knew how to enter it again, which was why she rescued me from the deep. She so very much wanted to spare Qiao from all this madness. Now they will all share the same fate._

"How? We have no catapults that can knock down that tower."

Again with the cough-for-a-laugh. _She truly didn't tell you much. She talked a lot while she interrogated me, let things slip in her frustration. This ship is designed for many things, but it is best suited for war._

A series of thumps from below deck made Cragfist look over the side and down towards the hull. Much to his widening eyes, the stone hull was shifting and separating, holes the shape of eye sockets springing forth into existence. It was as if the hull had been hiding them all this time, hard reality yielding to the commands of its captain. The _Zenith_ was now peppered with these vacant eye sockets, all of them looking out at the Repository.

_I'm going to enjoy stepping in for the Alchemist, _Cervantes gloated. _It's a shame, though. I wanted to see the looks on the faces of Hiccup and Nestor… and especially Archibald. I see now why storybook villains tend to drag these things out. Being practical is not very satisfying._

The signalman stood off to the side, awaiting Cervantes's order. Cervantes decided to hold off again. He hadn't gotten his full share of savoring yet, and he might as well get it out of his system. After today, things were going to be a little too easy.

* * *

Attempt #323: nope. Attempt #324: nope. Attempt #325: same as the last three hundred and twenty-four attempts.

Qiao wanted to get angry. It would give her a reason to storm off to vent. But she had to keep at it, keep focused. If her attention strayed, she'd lose track of the previous combinations and she'd be at this a whole lot longer.

Years of lock picking under stressful circumstances had made her fingers fast on the job, her mind sharp and organized. Even then, this was proving to be an odious task. Worse, she had no idea if she was even doing it right.

But what else was a girl to do? Get fat on wafers?

Attempt #326: yep, no go.

The ambient noise traveling throughout the cavern was beginning to sound less like boiling and churning lava and more… battle-like. Stressed voices, ringing metal, odd zipping sounds, that kind of thing. Impossible to identify from her location, but it was enough to make her think her friends had arrived.

Attempt #327: what a shock.

If they were in battle, that made it even more necessary for her to get out of here. She wasn't about to look like a caged bird in front of Mr. Uptight. She'd never live it down.

Attempt #328: _WHAP!_

Qiao looked at the case as if it had just said something to her. Maybe it had. She'd never heard a lock go _WHAP!_ She had to hope that Artisan locks were kooky that way and that she hadn't just activated a trap.

Despite her misgivings, she risked opening the case directly, grasping the lid and pulling it upward. The lid came free without any resistance, the felt interior exposed to the humid air for the first time in millennia.

Resting inside… was a bow.

"Really?" she spoke aloud. "Did she know this was here? First rule of keeping prisoners – never put them in the same room with the weapons."

But as bows went, its usefulness was nonexistent. In the first place, it was made of stone, not wood. Whose bright idea was that? True, most of Alche's devices and power was stone-based, but this was getting ridiculous. The bow had to weigh a ton.

But it didn't. While it resembled a bow sculpture made of violet-colored quartz, the surface was glossy, smooth to the touch. She picked it up easily in one hand. It was lighter than her last bow, the prized trinket that had kept her alive out in the world. Thinking about how Kong had reduced it to kindling made her fume again.

For an art piece, it was a well-crafted bow overall, with scouring marks for aiming in the middle. No notches for a bowstring though, not that the bow's stone composition allowed for flexing and bending.

All this trouble for a museum piece, one expressly designed to mock her. Already in a fuming state, Qiao picked out a sculpted face on the wall that most resembled Alche and aimed the bow. If the real Alche had suddenly reappeared, Qiao wasn't sure she could bring herself to peg her between the eyes like she was going to right now… well, pretend to.

But a replica of her? You can bet your britches.

"You want to know what I think of your better world, Alche?" she said. "This."

With the rehearsed motion of countless repetitions, Qiao brought her right hand back, gripping a pretend bowstring, and let fly. A pretend-arrow found its prey, right between the eyes of the stone face, as predicted.

A not-so-pretend explosion of beige energy and shattered bits of rock occurred, not as predicted.

Qiao rocked back in surprise, staring at the crater in the wall where a face used to be. Then she looked at the bow with a mix of trepidation and excitement. Either her imagination had gotten stronger, or the bow wasn't an art piece.

She duplicated her actions, this time paying attention to the bow instead of her target. A translucent bowstring had formed in her grip, along with an arrow composed of light or energy. She felt nothing in her hands, no tension at all, but the bowstring tightened and slackened just like a real string would do. Taking her hand away made it all fade into the air once more.

"Wow, wow, wow," she exclaimed cheerfully. "I think this will do just nicely." She aimed at the newly formed crater and let fly another beige-colored arrow. More rock exploded off the wall in thick chunks, the crater spreading and deepening with each new arrow. Picking the lock to this mystical cell was no longer required.

Another Artisan weapon, or one of Alche's own creations? The questions bugged her as she blasted a new doorway out of her fancy cell. Why would Alche leave a weapon like this assessable to her if it had this kind of power? Maybe Alche thought it was had run out of juice, or maybe she didn't think Qiao could use it, or maybe she had so low of an opinion of Qiao's talents that she didn't even consider the possibility of Qiao opening the case.

Whatever. Qiao could ask her when they met up again… which was going to be very soon.

* * *

For an old dragon, Arc was more nimble than he let on. As ferociously as Dark Star attacked, he kept ahead of her with steep dives and hard banking. He zoomed close to archways or just below the ceiling, hoping that Dark Star would overcompensate and either veer off or crash headfirst into the scenery.

But she was a Night Fury, and you couldn't shake a Night Fury.

Toothless could see Arc was slowing down, his wings beating slower, his tail lagging more and more into a turn. Sheer experience was saving him right now, but aerial combat was ultimately a young dragon's game. Yet Arc never looked Toothless's way, though he had to know Toothless was chasing Dark Star. He wasn't asking for help, though he desperately needed it.

Arc knew what Toothless would have to do. Arc was a smart dragon… and a kind one. Too kind, if it got him killed.

Toothless saw Arc hesitate too long into his newest turn, his eyes closed and his arms tucked into his chest. His bank was shallow, too shallow, and Dark Star lined up for a perfect shot to his head, the green death-light forming before her mouth.

She wasn't bothering to keep out of Toothless's line of fire. She didn't think he could do it.

With the heaviest of dragon hearts, Toothless sucked up the last of his combustion gas and aimed for her right wing. One solid fireball should do it…

But then he was choking on his gas in surprise as a burst of energy enveloped him, tiny crackles of blue lightning tingling all over his scales. A disturbing sensation, making his limbs jitter and his tail twitch. He remembered the sensation from the first time he met the green dragon, when Arc had shown his natural proclivity to bring the lightning.

He had brought it again. Arc had swiveled into the turn, facing backward and flinging out his arms just before Dark Star could fire. One flash later, both Toothless and Dark Star were coated in his lightning, and the effect on Dark Star was far worse than it was on Toothless.

Every metal part of her convulsed with live energy, her wings flexing in surreal ways, her red eye winking in and out, the glowing stones on her spine flickering in random patterns. She roared in surprise, fear, pain, or a combination of all, as she spun out of control toward the unforgiving cavern floor far below.

Flying level again, Arc watched Dark Star's final descent for a moment, then gave Toothless a look of true sympathy. While Toothless struggled to understand what was happening with Dark Star, he did understand that Arc had been holding back until now, hoping to find a less-deadly way to end the fight. He had held back for Toothless's sake, until he no longer had the luxury.

Toothless watched Dark Star spiral down… and then dived after her.

"TOOTHLESS!" Arc's cry was barely heard over the screaming wind as Toothless went to the rescue. He wasn't thinking this time, only reacting, flying in to save the only Night Fury he knew existed.

She was not family… but she was Night Fury.

He pulled up below her, their altitude dangerously low, towering archways so close he could tag them with his tail. Dark Star spun toward him, shocked and terrified at the approaching ground, and at the Night Fury waiting for her.

He timed it just right, darting in right as she spun upright. She fell hard onto his back, her weight nearly pushing him into a dive. His wings fully spread, he diverted her dive into a fast glide, the ground whizzing by far too quickly for a safe landing. Toothless tried to turn, tried to ascend, but the added weight of Dark Star made it impossible to maneuver. Dark Star's artificial roar rang in his ears, one of shock and confusion, but at least she wasn't attacking him.

If he had had more time, more altitude, or a more cooperative passenger, he might have pulled off the save. But Dark Star struggled on top of him, panicked over her malfunctioning body, causing him to dip again… and right into the path of a solidly built stone archway.

* * *

Toothless's less-than-thought-out rescue of Dark Star attracted the attention of both Hiccup and the Alchemist, which wound up saving Nestor from a lava-based scorching as the lava column halted again. But Hiccup didn't see this as an improvement, especially when Toothless clipped the roof of an archway and joined Dark Star in her death spiral.

Freed of his encumbrance, Toothless had enough time to turn his fall into a crash landing, angling for a bridge that connected to Hiccup's walkway and pulling up so that he slid when he hit, rubbing scales off his belly and leaving a trail of black on the stones. He could do little to arrest his speed, but he picked his landing spot well, coming to a rest against a retaining wall with a painful thump instead of going over the side.

"Toothless!" Hiccup yelled, too far away to do anything more. The dragon moved slightly, still alive, but the fall had not done him any good. Everyone else was too embroiled in their battles to go help him.

"Dark Star!" cried out the Alchemist, floating toward her beloved half-real dragon and thrusting her arms out as if she intended to catch her. The lava column up and collapsed as she did so, the molten rock falling back into the pit with a splash and a puff of steam.

The Alchemist flew sideways on an intercept course, Hiccup watching as she placed her body in Dark Star's projected path. Maybe she really was trying to catch the dragon. Madness.

In the blink of an eye, Dark Star collided with the Alchemist's protective field, shoving her backward in the air. But instead of crashing down with the dragon, both of them slowed as they neared Hiccup's walkway, decelerating quickly. Hiccup stood riveted to the spot as he mind worked, only half aware that the two living projectiles were about to crash down right next to him. He was aware that the Alchemist was using her "pushing field" to counter Dark Star's momentum, like the safety nets they used for dragon rider trainees back home.

When the Alchemist finally crashed to the walkway, she missed Hiccup by only a few inches, bouncing up and down on the walkway as she brought the unconscious Metal Fury to the ground. Something flew off the dragon as it hit, narrowly missing Hiccup as it landed on the walkway, some kind of slim-looking pyramid tangled up in severed ropes. Might be something important, but not as important as his current problems.

He could have moved – he wasn't that out of it. No, this was a test, because he had thought earlier that her "pushing field" pushed away everything that got close. But if that was true, he should have gone flying away just now. It had to be more like an inverse-force relationship – the more force thrown at the field, the more it pushed back.

Lightning and falling dragons? No problem. But what if your assailant was not in a big rush?

The Alchemist was patting her fallen dragon protector on the head, cooing at her like a baby. "There, there, Dark Star. It's only temporary. The stones are recharging as we speak." She hadn't picked up on Hiccup's presence yet, or else she didn't care that he was not all that far behind her.

By the Gods, she was right there, within run-up-and-punch distance. But he needed a distraction to make this work. She'd hear him otherwise and float away again, probably to plop some red-hot lava on Hiccup's head.

"I've always wondered who you loved more," shouted out a female voice from a bridge running parallel to the Alchemist's position. "Can't say I'm surprised."

Qiao, safe and sound, stood on the bridge with a strange bow in her hands, one that looked like it had no string attached. Nor did she have a quiver on her back. Neither of these important details appeared to disturb her as she brandished her new bow.

The shocked expression on the Alchemist's face said it all, and as an added bonus she was looking away from Hiccup. "How did you… that bow…"

Qiao had to have seen Hiccup, but she was keeping her eyes on the Alchemist. A flippant smile settled on her face. "Which was it, Alche? Carelessness or overconfidence?"

The Alchemist let out an epiphany-laced groan. "All this time, I thought the charge hadn't taken root. You're holding my first project, Qiao… and my first failure. I guess it took someone of your nature to activate it."

"Someone of my nature? Again with the cryptic talk?"

That was Hiccup's reaction as well, but he wisely didn't say anything as he stood a step toward the Alchemist.

"It doesn't matter now," said the Alchemist. "Qiao, it is better for you to stay right here and…"

"Cut the sheep dip, Alche. I'm walking out of here and all these nice people are coming with me." Qiao aimed her string-less bow straight at the Alchemist, who promptly chuckled at the idea.

"Even if I thought you were hard enough to do it, Qiao, I'm protected. Even _those _arrows can't penetrate while I have my harness activated."

"I figured that much. Did you hear all that, Hiccup?"

He had, but it didn't really matter as he was already reaching around the Alchemist's chest and closing his hand around the dodecagonal gemstone and pulling hard. It was times like these he wished he still carried a knife that could cut leather instead of hanging onto the hope that the gem's housing wasn't stronger than his toothpick arms.

For a change, he was not humiliated. The gemstone came free with a quick snap, the crimson orb disappearing altogether. The Alchemist whirled on him, but she couldn't even take a step before an energy arrow rocketed past her face, the arrow speeding down into a nearby lava pit.

"Oh, boys and girls!" shouted Hiccup, waving the stone above his head. "Look who we have."

The fighting stopped at once, all eyes turned to Hiccup. Kong and Sheen dismayed as they realized their leader was now at their enemy's mercy. Astrid and Saga cheered as they waved greetings to Qiao, as did Nestor and Linebreaker.

Hiccup didn't feel like cheering, not with Toothless lying in a heap. He wanted to go to him, tend to him. But he dared not turn his back on the Alchemist, especially with the angry glare she was giving him.

"You've hardly won, Dragon Rider," warned the Alchemist. "My ship will cut you down the moment you try to leave this place."

A swoosh of air indicated the arrival of Arc, landing next to Hiccup and laughing right in the Alchemist's unamused face. "With you in our custody, I think not," he stated. "Tell your henchmen to stand down."

"I'd rather see how many of your friends they kill. If I ask them to, they'll do it."

"To what end, Alchemist? Didn't you just say you don't desire the destruction of life?"

"Weren't you in the middle of a dragon fight during that conversation?" said Hiccup.

"Toothless isn't the only one with good ears," said Arc.

"One could argue the necessity for destruction in this case," she countered, but not very convincingly. "Still…" She nodded to her two subordinates, Kong immediately sheathing his swords with no complaint, Sheen lowering her chain very reluctantly.

Arc glanced over at Qiao and smiled toothily. "You couldn't wait another five minutes for a proper rescue?"

Qiao snickered at the jest. "I got bored."

"Tend to Toothless, Young Hiccup. I'll take care of our hostage." Arc held out his claw-hand and Hiccup gladly gave him the gemstone, not wanting to hold onto something with that much mystical power in it. Last time he held an artifact of great power, it mostly exploded on him.

He sprinted over to poor Toothless, the dragon stirring but very woozy. Outside of some scrapped scales, he didn't look badly hurt. Relieved, he petted the dragon's head and got his hand lightly licked for his troubles.

"We did it, bud," he softly whispered. "We saved Qiao, we took down the Alchemist, and once we get some answers from her, maybe we can put this world-saving business behind us."

A few seconds later, the world decided that, instead of being saved, it would come crashing down on all their heads.


	20. Crashing Down

**Author's Note: **Since this will be my final author's note for a time, I might as well make it a good one.

- The stats have been ticking up (at least as of 9/23/12). Several dozen people have read the entirety of this story, and I'm getting new traffic for Standing Against, Standing Between. It's still not at the first story's level of traffic, but it works for me. I suspected that many folk might not like my series veering away from Berk, or they just don't do sequels. Regardless, I'm just glad some people stuck around for the rest of the story.

Thank you all again for reading and reviewing, and I hope that you'll stick with me to the end.

- I'm keeping to my prediction of the next story (the shorter one) being out by the end of the year. As I've said before, you should probably Author Alert me if you want to keep track. The last story in the series should be out around summertime 2013 (not applicable in case of Mayan calendar prophecy fulfillment). As always, I'll be sticking to releasing chapters on Friday mornings (or late Thursday evenings - yeah, I cheat).

Life can intrude at any time and push my timeline back. Just take heart that no matter what, I'm going to finish this series. I'm too invested now.

- I'm tentatively thinking of naming the whole series **Dragons: Champions** (kind of a spin-off name). I don't know if that's cheesy or not, but it feels right. If anyone has any thoughts (or alternative name ideas), let me know. Otherwise, that'll be the name I'm going with.

- One final note: I'm sure there will be questions, thoughts, and concerns following the ending to this story. So let's be clear: I don't spoil (much). I know that spoilers have existed since the dawn of story telling (what else would you call those pamphlets they give out before an opera that literally describes the entire plot of the opera you're about to see). I know people like spoilers because either it prepares them for the heavy stuff or it reassures them that everything will turn out okay. But I believe that the best experiences for stories are where you don't know the destination ahead of time. Like life, you don't know what's going to happen, and that's part of the thrill (though it sucks a lot of the time, too).

You're just going to have to trust me.

I will say this: assume nothing.

Onwards.

**Chapter Nineteen: Crashing Down**

On any sailing ship across the world, sending a message to your crewmen below decks required human messengers and lag time between command and action. Delays of even seconds mattered a lot in combat.

Cervantes snapped his steel fingers and the signalman immediately touched his signal-stone, sending a bright message to the twenty sailors manning the siege cannons below deck. No delays, no lag.

Ah, technology.

Twenty lumps of ordinary igneous rock went blasting out of twenty separate holes, the air ringing with deafening echoes from the launches. They flew out like sparrows on fire, converging on the tower and smashing into it with extreme prejudice. The rocks disintegrated into clouds of dusty fragments, obscuring the impact point for several seconds until the cloud thinned and revealed the results of the attack.

Scrapes. Maybe a dent here and there. But the tower had resisted the assault.

Cervantes hadn't yet figured out how to make this body frown, so he didn't bother. The Repository was made of sterner stuff. It shouldn't have been a shock, as the tower was designed to hold back the merciless ocean's intrusion, but it did put a curve into his straightforward revenge plan.

Then again, maybe he was aiming at the wrong target.

_Second volley, _ordered Cervantes, followed by a new set of instructions. A messenger snapped to and went down to relay the command. Not everything was new and improved. The gunners had to be given new aiming instructions prior to preparing the cannons, so they knew where to shoot. Thankfully, precise coordinates weren't required, not for this plan.

The tower would be saved for last. True, it was the sole entrance in and out of the Repository, and destroying it would seal the fate of everyone inside the structure. But it was clearly built to withstand both siege and ocean pressure. The cannons would take a long time to topple it, and the resulting attacks would warn those within. But the cavern roof was not as protected.

Cragfist had gone off to sulk about his fortune. Not even the death of his enemies satisfied him now. Too many blows to the ego for one day. Not that Cervantes cared about the pathetic Viking, but he still wanted him alive for now. He'd let him crack the whip on someone's back – the cook, maybe.

The signal-stone in the signalman's hands glowed a brief pattern of two flashes, then three. The cannons were ready again.

Cervantes nodded and more rocks went airborne. The projectiles arced down into the maelstrom, colliding at a spot just below the base of the tower, geysers of saltwater and stone spraying everywhere. The whole of the maelstrom continued unabated, but the bottom of the whirlpool was no longer churning as regularly as before.

A short pause and one nod from Cervantes later, the next volley lit out, causing a massive fountain of destruction down below. The water shifted more, part of the current redirected down into the yawning cave below the tower. A few more blasts, and the current would become a ceaseless flood, destined to forever submerge the Repository.

_Let's see if you can resist the ocean itself, Archibald,_ mused Cervantes.

* * *

Hiccup felt a slight tremor move through the ground as he inspected Toothless's rudder for damage. It made him look up and check around the cavern for any signs of active-volcano shenanigans. But he relaxed again when the lava stayed down in its pits. Probably just your normal run-of-the-mill rumbling that occurred down in the Earth's crust.

It had taken a few minutes for Saga and Astrid to find a new cross-bridge that connected to Hiccup's walkway, but they were finally heading his direction, escorting Kong from behind. Nestor and Linebreaker were already back with Arc, guarding the Alchemist, Sheen, and Dark Star. The half-metal dragon was back on her feet, though the gems on her spine had only the faintest of glows. Hopefully that meant she was still out of death-ray juice.

Sheen's chain rested at her feet, the white-haired woman acting like she'd bite anyone who attempted to confiscate it. Arc parlayed with the Alchemist, and it wasn't going very well.

"What is this stone?" Arc demanded, holding up the diamond-like dodecahedron Hiccup had pilfered. "I don't recognize it."

"You will get no answers from me, Hyperion," said the Alchemist.

"If that's the case…" Arc casually tossed it over his shoulder, where a long drop into a lava pit awaited the special rock.

"No, you fool!" she screamed. Arc was way ahead of her, his tail batting the stone back up in the air before it could clear the walkway. He easily caught it again in a claw-hand.

"Must be important," said Arc. Qiao, still standing on a separate bridge with her bow at the ready, laughed at the fake-out.

Hiccup might have laughed as well had his inspection not yielded a problem with the rudder linkup. Hiccup groaned – Toothless landed too hard on his belly, jamming key sections of the saddle linkup. Toothless wouldn't be maneuvering until it was fixed. Thankfully, it was fixable given a few minutes of effort, less if Nestor helped him bend the right parts back into their proper shape…

The second tremor almost made Hiccup's fake leg slip out from under him. Alarm bells went off in his head, and the looks on everyone else's faces meant they were hearing the same bells. Astrid, Saga, and Kong stopped in their tracks, right before the last bridge between them and the rest of the group, understandably concerned that the bridge might not be safe any longer.

But before Hiccup could say something obvious like _Volcano! _or _Earthquake!_ the cave starting tossing heavy rocks in spurts. Sandy pebbles pattered down from the ceiling as well, far more common than their bigger brothers, but the pebbles weren't splashing lava around or collapsing archways like the bigger rocks could… and did.

Arc looked up at the ceiling and fired off a blue electrical bolt at a sizeable chunk of ceiling coming toward the group, flinging it away. Qiao shot another rock in mid-fall, the rock filling up with blazing-white energy before shattering into harmless dust. Between the two of them, they kept the group from any rock-related injuries.

Then a horrendous crunching sound reverberated all around them, and the rain of rocks became actual rain.

No… an actual _flood._

Arc abruptly found himself at ground zero of a deluge of saltwater, the dragon grunting as a minor waterfall pounded him, driving him to the stone. He struggled under the pressure, but he was effectively pinned in place, unable to crawl out from under it.

A second waterfall, a bigger one, opened up ten feet in front of him, splashing the walkway and transforming it into a rushing river in the time you could say Noah's Ark. The slight slope of the walkway made the water flow away from the beleaguered dragon. Good for Arc, bad for everyone else.

Hiccup watched helplessly as the walkway-turned-river crashed into Nestor and Linebreaker, Alchemist and Sheen and Dark Star, sweeping their legs out from under them. Only Dark Star held fast, her bulk and weight pitted against the raging current. Sheen collided with her, grabbing the dragon's tail purely on reflex, the dragon pulling Sheen in so she could climb onto the dragon's back.

The rest went whipping down the walkway at a dangerous pace, unable to find handholds on the smooth surface. Hiccup had seconds before the water got to him and Toothless. The dragon saw the same danger and got to his feet, growling in fear. They could fly away easily, but flying was the worse option when your rudder was damaged and lava pits dotted the landscape. Not to mention that Nestor and Linebreaker needed help… and maybe the Alchemist as well.

"Hold fast, buddy," Hiccup ordered, mounting the saddle. Toothless stoically faced the water and braced himself for the incoming flood.

The water hit with the force of a breaking wave, drenching Hiccup in salty brine up to his knees. Sturdy Toothless took it in stride, raising his head above the water and grabbing Linebreaker's shirt with his teeth. Nestor found Hiccup's outstretched hand and used it to cling to the dragon's saddle. Toothless had become an island in the middle of a newly formed underground river. Unfortunately, it was only a stopgap idea. The water was only going to get stronger.

Up ahead, the walkway began to explode in a systematic fashion as arrow after arrow thundered into the retraining wall closest to Qiao, forming a hole that spewed surging water down the slope to a waiting lava pit. Water met molten rock and birthed a mushrooming cloud of steam. Each arrow widened the hole until the greater part of the torrent was diverted.

Seconds later, the merciless river had tapered off to a wimpy stream, allowing Nestor and Linebreaker to regain their footing. Nestor immediately took off running up the stream to his drowning dragon mentor, yelling for Linebreaker and Hiccup to help him. Linebreaker ran to assist, but it had suddenly occurred to Hiccup that they were forgetting somebody in all this.

He swiveled in his saddle and looked behind him. Yes, they'd forgotten about the Alchemist, still caught up in the initial sea surge and heading for the bridge Astrid had yet to cross.

Then a third tremor rocked the cave, and things got so much worse.

* * *

Kong had proven to be a model prisoner-of-war, giving Astrid and Saga no difficulty whatsoever as they marched back to the others. They had let him keep his swords due to the fact that he had refused to leave his swords behind and disarming someone as skilled as Kong was a risky prospect. Better for his swords to stay in their scabbards and get help on the matter.

Astrid wasn't too worried about Kong. He had a serious honor-before-reason side to him, which made him surprisingly trustworthy. If he hadn't been doing his best to kill her a few minutes ago, she might have even liked the guy.

When the earthquake began, he had wisely stayed with Astrid and Saga at the head of the next bridge. But once Kong saw the Alchemist in peril, Kong's first act of disobedience was to rush out to meet the incoming flood.

Saga was instantly on his tail, displaying that superbly reflexive nature of hers. Kong raced over the bridge as if he had wolves snapping at his heels, and considering that Saga was right behind him the imagery was fairly apt.

Astrid was only trailing by a few steps, but it was a few steps that made all the difference when the third tremor hit. The stone bridge vibrated for only a few seconds, but it made Astrid halt just the same. Kong and Saga ignored it and pressed on, clearing the bridge just as a new rain of ceiling chunks came crashing down. One came down in front of Astrid, smashing a hole straight through. Thank the Gods for small favors; it left connecting paths on the sides. She was forced to slow down as she carefully sidestepped the ugly hole, slinging her axe onto her back to keep her hands free. She made the mistake of looking down through the hole, and she yelped upon seeing what was below her – flowing lava that greedily swallowed everything that fell upon it.

A second killer rock grazed the walkway ahead of Kong and Saga, though its idea of grazing was to take the left half of the walkway with it. A narrow path remained for Kong and Saga, but now the water flow had found a new destination, spilling off into the new hole instead of the bridge. The Alchemist was about to go over with it.

Kong drew his swords without delay, causing Saga to draw her daggers in response. But when he ran straight into the path of the surge and drove the swords into the stone, Saga wisely backed off, uncertain of his intentions.

Kong braced himself against the flat of his swords, letting the waters collide with him. Not a shred of reservation contorted his face as he held firm his position and stretched out his hands. The Alchemist sputtered and flailed toward him, catching his hands just before the current took her into the waiting hole. She held onto the stoic swordsman, breathing hard and watching the ceiling with the angriest of eyes until the surge diminished.

"Siege cannons!" Astrid heard her yell over the din of the flood. "Those fools. When I get out of here…"

A peanut-sized rock up and fell onto Kong's head. Even that wasn't enough to make the swordsman change facial expressions as he let go of his mistress and fell silently into the muddy water.

Saga used the moment to approach the Alchemist, demanding her compliance as other waterfalls sprang into life across the canyon. "If we wish to live through this, we need to work…"

Steam was billowing all around them as more water met more lava, the air growing humid and misty. Thus, Astrid didn't see Dark Star until she was zooming in from above. Like a dragon-shaped battering ram, she head-butted Saga away, the Seer skidding across the wet stone a good ten feet, sprawled out and unmoving.

Astrid cried out for Saga as Sheen jumped from Dark Star's back and helped drape Kong's body onto the dragon. The Alchemist retrieved Kong's swords and gave them to Sheen, who was back on top of Dark Star and holding out her hand for her boss to take.

Then Hiccup and Toothless were right there, the Night Fury grabbing the Alchemist with his front legs and jump-gliding away, angling for the bridge that Astrid had just gotten off. The garbled snarl from Dark Star was horrific, rage and denial combined in one utterance, and she nearly tossed Sheen overboard as she leapt to pursue.

All this crazy back-and-forth was quickly forgotten with the arrival of the newest earth-shattering crack, the biggest one of them all. Astrid had the horrifying honor of watching the cavern's ceiling split in two, a great wall of frothing water pouring down to snuff out everything below it.

* * *

"You're not getting away from us that easily," yelled down Hiccup at the struggling woman in Toothless's grip.

Actually, that's what he _would_ have said had the ceiling not chosen to crack apart right before Toothless landed on the damaged bridge. Instead, he was looking up and regretting that hadn't built air bladders into his armor, because it sure looked like he was going to need them.

A volley of minor waterfalls burst into existence, one of which hit Toothless's right wing, shoving him down into the bridge for another belly-first crash landing. The Alchemist fell free and half-rolled, half-skidded along with them as Toothless came to a halt, groaning with fresh pain delivered to old bruises.

Soaked and half-blinded from the water blast, Hiccup saw one Astrid-shaped blur running back onto the bridge, barely a step ahead of the mother of all waterfalls as it found the weakened section of the bridge and took it down into the flash-fry pits below. The sea was now coming in to claim the Repository, and at the rate of volume flooding in they had minutes before the cavern was officially underwater.

His vision cleared as he dismounted from Toothless, feeling the compulsion to run back towards Astrid as she sprinted away from the growing waterfall and the crumbling bridge. He didn't know what he was going to accomplish when he got to Astrid outside of hugging her and escorting her back to Toothless, but he just couldn't stand around and watch her outrun the death waters.

Toothless made movements to stand and follow him, wobbly movements with little energy in them. The poor dragon had suffered two crashes in short order, sapping his strength and undoubtedly further damaging the artificial rudder. Hiccup told him to wait where he was, the dragon uttering a sad growl as his legs gave out again.

Above them, Dark Star was trying her hardest to get around the waterfalls spilling out of the growing fissures and cracks in the ceiling. Every time she made for the Alchemist, a new spurt of seawater would form and block her path, forcing her to veer off again and again to avoid getting pummeled.

The Alchemist had just gotten back on her feet when Astrid ran by her. One frantic scan of the disaster scene later, she was running after Astrid. Hiccup already knew he was going to give her a hand when the time came, his good-guy mentality kicking in, but Astrid still came first.

"Astrid, hurry up!" he yelled. Yes, it was an unnecessarily obvious thing to yell, but she couldn't see what he was seeing. The wall of water was expanding by the second, filling up the gaps separating them from Nestor and the others… and the tower entrance. If the wall became total…

Even as freaked as she was, Astrid still managed an irritated glare. "What do you think I'm trying to EEEE!"

The bridge lurched, a support underneath giving out from all the seawater or falling rock or agitated lava. Hiccup tripped on his false leg and bashed his knee on the stone as he stumbled, the now-unsupported section of the bridge ahead of him promptly giving up the fight and falling away.

Taking Astrid and the Alchemist with it.

* * *

A warrior's instinct saved Astrid as she screeched in panic, leaping as the ground fell out from under her, her hands snagging a jagged point of bridge. There she dangled out in the open, a secure bridge section less than two feet away. It shouldn't have been a problem for someone as physically fit as Astrid to shimmy her way over, but she had accumulated a hitchhiker.

The Alchemist had dove for the bridge, but found Astrid's legs instead. She gripped them tightly to prevent Astrid from kicking her off, as well as to avoid the falling-to-your-death scenario underway. There were no ledges or handholds at arm's length. It was a long drop, a steam-shrouded pit of hot oblivion below them.

For the first time in so many years, the Alchemist felt completely at a loss. The plan had looked so good on paper. She had even compensated for unknown variables, taken precautions, over-prepared and over-thought everything. She had set out more than ready to deal with the barbarian hordes and the so-called civilizations of this time period. She was ready for dragons and Guardians and every other contingency that existed.

A fool's dream. Life was just too unpredictable for any plan to survive. Even the best plans died of a thousand careless cuts.

The girl that had become her lifeline was trying to move them to the bridge, and she was being kind in not trying to kick her off, but the Alchemist's added weight was making this almost impossible. She could be nice and save the girl by letting go, but the Alchemist was rather miffed at the Dragon Rider and his allies. Taking one of them with her was the least she could do.

She could salvage the situation, though not much of it.

While most of the cavern was quickly becoming one big waterfall, she did spy Dark Star flying close to the ceiling, a dark spot amongst the churning white, carrying Kong and Sheen and desperately trying to get to her master. Getting rescued that way would be ideal, but there was no way. The entrance was nearly cut off by pounding waters, the aerial corridors shrinking rapidly as the ceiling gave way.

Time to cut losses.

While hugging Astrid's legs, she brought her communication armband close enough to her other hand and touched the signal stone corresponding to Dark Star. She promptly felt the deep anxiety of her winged friend, the dragon raging inconsolably. Left to her own devices, Dark Star would never stop trying to save her until the waters dragged her down to her doom.

_Leave._

The dragon heard her. She had no choice but to hear her. But she didn't respond or change course. Too shocked by the command.

_Go, Dark Star. Leave this place._

A response this time. Deep denial. The dragon would find a way to her. It promised her that.

_No, Dark Star. Your duty to me comes first. You must save Kong and Sheen. You must take what you have away from here. You must survive… and seek out those who have betrayed us this day._

The dragon still fought with her. The enormity of what she was asking – it was too much. By the time she could convince the dragon to willingly go, escape would be a non-option.

No choice, then.

_Expeditious fallback._

The dragon's mind cut out as the irresistible command was given. The flying spot banked hard and fled toward a break between waterfalls, vanishing behind the frothing ocean surge.

She hated doing it as much as she relished Dark Star's all-but-certain survival. A final command built into Dark Star's bio-steel, causing the dragon's body to literally disobey the dragon's brain. In this case, the body would automatically head back to the Safe House instead of the _Zenith_. Just as well, as there were traitors aboard that ship. She had tried Norom's signal-stone, but no connection could be achieved. Not a good development.

Poor, dear Norom. He deserved better.

So did she.

* * *

Saga missed the part where the ocean started its full migration into the cavern, still reeling from Dark Star's attack. Then two strong arms lifted her back to her feet and she became well aware of the mountain of water standing before her, sweeping away millennia-old archways and bridges like there were made of parchment and mud.

The Gods had been kind to her once again. Even though she was less than fifty yards from the greatest waterfall in history, the section of it near her had fallen onto the bridge instead of the walkway, collapsing most of it. The water flowed into the deep lava pits, which would take time to fill. Had the water come down a few feet closer, it would have spilled onto the walkway and swept her to her death.

"Can you run?" Nestor asked her, every part of his body sopping and streaked with mud.

"Which way?" she tiredly replied. "We are out of directions to go."

"The entrance is untouched. I'd start there."

Captain Linebreaker waved at her near the archway to the stairs. They were unblemished by water or broken stone, though that would change quickly. One blessing in their favor. Then she began a headcount. Linebreaker accounted for already. Nestor, obviously. She could see Arc had been freed of his water torture and was in the process of rescuing Qiao from another bridge, one that was perilously close to becoming underwater. That left…

Astrid! The Dragon Rider!

"Astrid…"

"Other side." Nestor showed her a thin gap in the waterfall between them and the bridge Saga had crossed over previously. A very thin gap existed, perhaps adequate for a human to squeeze through, where she could see the state of the bridge and those on it.

The state was dire, and getting more dire by the second.

"They cannot get back," she stated, her water-chilled face growing chillier. "There is no way."

"Saga, get going," demanded Nestor. "I'll take it from here."

"What?"

"I can get over there if I go now."

"Suicide."

"I'm the one with the barrier field. I like my odds."

"No, I meant your leaping prowess. The bridge is half-gone. You cannot leap that far."

"Not without assistance," said Arc, flying in with Qiao on his back. Qiao looked as distressed as Saga felt. She slid off Arc's back as she watched the disaster unfold around her. Then, curiously, she found something of interest lying in the muddy water coursing down the walkway and went to retrieve it. A thief's priories were always on valuables, apparently.

"You can't make the jump on your own," said Arc to Nestor. "And I'm not helping."

"Old Man!"

"What can you do over there, Nestor? Wait to drown with the others?"

"I can… I can do something…"

"Think this through, my boy. Neither I nor Toothless nor any other dragon…"

Right at that moment, one of those "any other dragons" barreled by them at an insane clip. Dark Star with two passengers, darting right past a very surprised Linebreaker and into the tower entrance. She made a quick stop to align herself and then shot straight up the tower.

"You were saying?" said Nestor.

"I was saying that I refuse to send you to your death," Arc declared.

"Well, I _am_ saying that I refuse to leave them to their deaths," countered Nestor.

Saga saw the situation all too clearly. Her heart was almost as drowned as the cavern, her Gunnarr heritage rising to compensate. She could not abandon Astrid or Hiccup or Toothless... yet she had to. A true warrior knew when it was hopeless to risk your life, when all you could do was add to the death count.

Astrid – a true sister. Saga would sacrifice her life for her, if such a sacrifice would suffice.

She was about to speak up, tell Nestor that she agreed with the Hyperion for once, but Qiao got in front of her and held up an odd-looking pyramid as if it was the most amazing thing in the world.

"We have an option," said Qiao. "Not a great option, but it's here."

She explained what the pyramid did, how it worked and the risks involved. The _great_ risks involved. It did little to mollify Arc, but Nestor indicated he was done arguing as he grabbed the artifact and used the rope dangling from it to tie it to his back.

"Nestor, this is only slightly less stupid than your original plan," said Arc.

"It's still a better plan," replied Nestor.

"You don't know where you'll end up… or if you'll end up anywhere."

"Can't be worse than where we are now."

"Nestor…"

"Old Man, if it was me over there, wouldn't you be just as stupid?"

Nestor's question had the right effect. Arc stared at him, knowing what his answer was and refusing to say it. He looked away, defeated, and said, "On your mark."

With little time to spare, Nestor finished securing the T-Node and moved under Arc's chest. He mustered up as comforting a smile as he could manage to Saga, who suddenly looked certain she was never going to see him again. It was a look Nestor could've done without, this being Saga and her foretelling ways, but even a stern warning about the future wouldn't have changed Nestor's mind now.

"Bring them back, Outlander," Saga told him.

"What she said," concurred Qiao.

Nestor gave the word and Arc gripped him with his arms, taking them into the air together. Arc flapped upwards several dozen feet, flying away from the narrowing gap in the waterfall wall so that he had the space required for this move. The air was choked with steam and flying droplets, but Arc's keen vision had no problem zeroing in on his target. It was a long toss, a tactic they had done together several times before, but never when missing the target carried with it such fatal consequences.

"Have I mentioned how much of a pain in my scaly backside you are?" remarked Arc.

"Not lately," said Nestor.

"Well… I really should mention it more than I do."

Nestor felt Arc's grip tighten, transforming into a hug for a brief moment. Nestor reciprocated as best he could from his awkward position.

"It's okay, Old Man," he replied, feeling a little extra moisture cloud his vision. "I'm right there with you."

* * *

There was a high-pitched scream sounding out from somewhere close. It took Hiccup a moment to realize that it was his own voice.

He was able to choke off his panicked, out-of-control voice when he saw Astrid hanging from a slender piece of bridge, the Alchemist clinging to her like a hairball on a wet towel. He cruelly hoped the Alchemist would lose her grip and fall off, but she held fast and Astrid wasn't doing much to shake her off.

"Astrid, Astrid, Astrid!" He was now in the endless-name-repeating state of panic, rushing over to the beginning of the slender ledge and testing it with his good foot. It crackled under his weight, his foot jerking back. A tightrope walker might feel at home walking the length of the ledge, but not a boy with a metal foot.

Toothless stumbled into motion again, but he was still too weak to move fast. He hadn't recovered from his newest crash and while the dragon shoved and dragged himself toward Hiccup with stubborn resolution, he wasn't going to be much help for a least a minute.

Hiccup got down on his belly and crawled out as far as he dared, which was a foot insufficient to save Astrid. Roiling stream clouds gathered below her, mixing with the roaring seawater to create a formless, disorienting scene.

She stared back at him with fear-laden eyes. "Hiccup, don't come out here. It's not stable."

"I'm aware." He held out his right hand while using his left to find a hold to brace with. He didn't find one that worked. This would have to be a straight lift… and he wasn't adequate for the job.

"You have to climb over to me," he instructed, trying to keep the blossoming panic within him out of his voice. "One hand over the other."

"I'm barely holding on as is," she replied. "Too much weight."

Hiccup looked down at the Alchemist again, who was fiddling around with the armband on her left arm. She had gems on the thing. What was so important about gems at a time like this?

_Shake her off,_ he thought. _Shake her off, Astrid. It's not like she doesn't deserve it._

He didn't say it. It would be a cold-blooded thing to do, but it would save Astrid's life. Yet he didn't say it.

"Toothless is coming," he said, keeping his hand outstretched on the hope that she would magically elongate her arms and take it. "Just keep hanging on."

"Why do people say things like that?" she remarked angrily. "Do people really think someone hanging from a ledge is debating whether or not to let go?"

Good, anger. That should make her arms hold out longer. "Okay, also, don't look down."

"Again, why do people say that?"

"I didn't read the rulebook on ledge emergencies, Astrid. Cut me some slack."

"Actually, Hiccup, looking up is the problem."

Taking her hint, Hiccup reluctantly looked up and saw what she meant. It was hard to sense any further tremors through all the pounding water impacting the cavern floor, but the ceiling was continuing to crack open. One juicy crack was spreading out above the bridge, sprinkles of liquid squeezing through.

They didn't have a minute. They didn't even have half-a-minute.

"Shake her off!" he cried out, no longer caring how freaked out his voice was now. "Whatever it takes, but take my hand."

"You can't lift me." There was a deadly calm about how she said it, and it made Hiccup's heart seize up.

A human-shaped projectile suddenly materialized from a gap in the waterfall, shooting out like a seagull in a windstorm and hitting the bridge several dozen feet behind Hiccup. The projectile rolled and flailed, orange light blazing all the time, until the figure came to a skidding halt. He then proceeded to rise to his feet, though far from quickly. But he was closer and in better shape than Toothless.

"Nestor!" Hiccup's heart started again. "He's here, Astrid."

"The ceiling's giving, Hiccup," she said, her tone pleading. "Get clear."

He looked at her as if she had just told him to chop off his good foot. "Astrid…"

The stream of droplets pattering down on his head became a torrent, doubling in intensity every second. A new waterfall was only seconds away.

"Hiccup, go!" she cried. "Get on Toothless and…"

"SHUT UP!" Forgetting how unstable the ledge was now, he inched out further and further. He could feel the stone crumbling under him, the mini-waterfall around him picking up speed and power, but he was no longer thinking, no longer aware of his surroundings.

"Hiccup, no!" The demand in her voice stopped him cold, as did the tears in her eyes. "You have to keep fighting, Hiccup. You can't come with me."

"This is not happening! This is absolutely…"

"Hiccup…"

Through the sheer anger and terror encompassing his soul, the roar of the incoming waterfall, through the dashing of every dream and hope that had armored him through the misery that had been his young life, the way she said his name cut through it all and made him stop and listen for one terrible, final second.

"I would've said yes."

Then she let go.

* * *

For Hiccup, everything just stopped at that moment.

Not that the world stopped, far from it. Astrid fell free of the Alchemist, the brown-haired woman more surprised than terrified at the sudden sensation of freefall, as the two of them rapidly descended into the steam clouds, Astrid locking eyes with Hiccup for the three seconds they had before the mist swallowed her up, any last words or scream obliterated by the titanic overture of the incoming sea.

The ceiling caved in and sent a gigantic river onto Hiccup's head, or would have had Nestor not arrived and yanked him back, dragging the lifeless boy away from the edge as the flood tore into the bridge, taking the last remnants of the bridge with it.

Hiccup was barely aware of any of it. He felt Nestor pulling him away, smelt the old musk of his dragon buddy, and was dimly aware of a very odd sensation that enveloped him. He knew he was still alive, for what good that did him.

Because for Hiccup, none of it mattered. For Hiccup, the world had just come to an end.

* * *

Two seconds too late.

Nestor watched Astrid fall into the abyss, the Alchemist with her. For all his power, for all of Arc's training and his unfailing accuracy, for all his so-called expert timing…

Two seconds.

Nestor stopped himself from thinking. This was instinct time. If he thought about what just happened, it would wreck him.

Get Hiccup and Toothless out of here. Get them out.

Hiccup froze up right as she let go, and he almost went over the side with her, helped along by the emerging waterfall right above him. Nestor reached him before he could do so, grabbing him under the armpits and pulling him back from the edge. He backpedaled furiously to get clear of the newest disaster, the bridge disappearing under the torrent.

Seconds to go.

He backed into Toothless, the dragon growling and whirling his head in utter distress. Nestor had to shout at him to get him to hold still so he could place the practically catatonic Hiccup onto the dragon's saddle and secure the harness. Whatever happened next, Hiccup would have Toothless. Limping and hurt, the dragon would nonetheless take care of him.

With the floodwaters bearing down on him, Nestor tugged the T-Node off his body and held it in both hands, touching it to Toothless so that its power would affect him as well. He placed one hand on the top of the artifact and twisted. The upper section proved to be a rotatable component, and he turned it one hundred and eighty degrees so that a few of the twisty symbols on the surface matched up with other twisty symbols.

"Fate's Luck, don't fail me now," he muttered.

At once, all of those twisty symbols filled up with murky yellow light, growing in intensity for several insanely-long moments before the light practically leapt out of the symbols and danced around Nestor, Toothless, and Hiccup. More and more bands of dark yellow energy joined the crazy dance, spinning around faster and faster like moths on a sugar high. Nestor might have found the dancing lights almost beautiful given better circumstances.

Then the lights converged, dazzling Nestor and covering him in a scintillating cloak of energy. His body grew translucent, almost numb, as the world faded into an all-encompassing curtain of sparkles and streamers. Just before the waters found him, he had lost touch with the physical plane, the dancing lights pulling him along someplace far away…

To outside eyes, the effect was less dramatic. The lights turned inward and disappeared, taking the three hapless travelers with them. The T-Node hovered for a split-second before the bridge-destroying wave found it and smashed it against a hundred hard surfaces, breaking it into unsalvageable rubble.

The powercore within it did rupture and explode eventually, collapsing several caves within the dying Repository, but amidst the grand destruction already underway, it did little to make things worse.

* * *

Most entities that have over a thousand years of life have the tendency to become pragmatic. Arc had pragmatism down to an art form, and right now he was thankful for it. Trying to think his way through the next minute would only end in misery for all.

He didn't think about Nestor as he swooped down to grab Saga, the woman transfixed in shock after witnessing her best friend fall to a watery grave. He didn't think about Hiccup as he curved to pick up Qiao, tears running down her cheeks as she held her new, and very ancient, bow to her chest. He didn't think about Toothless as he skidded to a halt in front of Linebreaker, the captain easily choosing a nauseous gut over a lung full of seawater as he climbed onto Arc's back.

He absolutely didn't think about Astrid as he shoved himself through the cracking archway into the tower, didn't fret about what kind of reception he was about to receive as he lifted the survivors upward through the gloom-filled tower. He ignored the horrifying thuds and shudders from projectile impacts as the one who had ordered the Repository sunk now shifted to the tower.

He didn't consider the implications of the tower's sudden change in orientation as he closed in on the tower roof, how it was beginning to lean more and more as the bombardment continued.

He didn't question why the ceiling opened as he neared it, for that answer didn't need any thought. He had read the symbols on the roof, after all – a lock to keep people out, but not to bar those already inside from leaving.

His first real conscious act occurred as his reptilian frame met welcomed sunshine, when he realized how much of an angle he was at as he emerged into the fresh air. With the painful groan an old man might make when sitting down from his long morning walk, the tower finished its toppling, the top crashing into the rapidly-dying maelstrom and snapping in two.

The whirlpool was in a full state of collapse, the current warping and disintegrating as the ocean rushed back into the vacant space it had once occupied. The once-mighty tower became submerged in rolling primal forces, the sea flattening out the disturbance.

The _Zenith_ moved away as fast as its bulk could go, which was impressively fast for such a large ship. Its weapons had fallen silent, its grim work accomplished. Arc maneuvered higher into the air, clearing the returning waters while getting a final look at the fleeing ship. He wanted to see who was responsible, to know the one who had betrayed his or her leader and who had caused Arc and his friends so much approaching grief.

The universe granted his request, for on the deck, staring back at him with eyes of fire and hate, was a metal abomination. The thing could not disguise its disgust, nor could he hide his true identify. Arc knew him in any form, and now he had to add horror to the list of emotions he was going to be dealing with in short order.

Cervantes.

_Some things never stay dead, do they?_ he thought, forcing himself to turn away and concentrate on catching enough thermals to get him and what remanded of their group far, far away from this place.

Behind him, the whirlpool had finished its regression into a calm, featureless land of liquid. The sea currents returned to normal, the schools of agitated fish that made this spot of ocean their home racing back to their favorite foraging grounds, satisfied that everything was back where it was supposed to be.

Lucky fish.


	21. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

Satisfaction was something of a quixotic quest to Cervantes. He could never quite achieve it, even when all the variables favored him. Cervantes knew better to believe in curses – no one could call down divine wrath on others, and he should know – but sometimes he wondered if he had picked up a pint of misfortunate in his life, not enough to thwart him outright, but enough to keep him from true success.

He had watched the Alchemist's Night Fury zoom off into the horizon, carrying two passengers but lacking its master. He had watched Archibald… that thrice-cursed Archibald… emerge from the Repository before he could finish toppling it.

No Dragon Rider, though. No flesh-and-blood Night Fury. No lackey of Archibald riding on the dragon's shoulders.

Important losses, for sure, but nowhere near the losses he wanted.

Still, any day that ended in the death of the Alchemist was certainly a good day. And he had gotten revenge on the ones who destroyed his Monolith body. Payback had no moral center; it wasn't just reserved for those who perform evil.

The crew of the ship was no more at ease with him than before, and their uneasy faces all but said "devil with a nice shiny coating," but they had a new spring in their step after witnessing the destruction of the Repository. Most of them had accepted that there would be no reprieve from the Alchemist. Finality had a way of making people amenable to change.

He ordered the helmsman to chart a course back to the Alchemist's lair, the place known as the Safe House. He knew little about it, as the Alchemist had kept that much out of her insipid one-sided conversations, but he knew that he needed to go there just the same. This trip to the Repository had been little more than a fishing expedition. Her true plan bore further investigation, and the place to start looking was back at her home. Along the way, he and the Alchemist's half-troll lackey, currently resting uncomfortably in the brig, would have a little chat.

Cervantes felt a grin slip onto his steel face, and he allowed it to continue. Whatever plans the Alchemist had, the world was safe from them… but it was far from safe from _him._

* * *

Ship proved to be a good listener. It had drifted away from the maelstrom, a little too far away for Linebreaker's liking but still obeying the spirit of the command. Arc found it off to the south, turning lazily in a tidal current that would have sent it into a sandbar before the sun had set.

Linebreaker called it a burst of good fortune to compensate for… everything else. After the looks he got from the others, he wisely decided to skip the cheering-up part of being a captain and concentrate on getting them back to the coast.

Arc sat on his haunches in the middle of the deck, acting like he was keeping watch on the horizon for any further unpleasant surprises when the truth was that a hurricane could be simmering in the background and he wouldn't have noticed it. Internally, he wanted to nothing more than to find the ship's hold and crawl in there, but the others needed him to not do that.

He saved an occasional glance for Saga, who had staked out the bow of the ship. She stood with her back to him, also acting like she really was on sentry duty. She had not said a word since he'd carried her out of the Repository. Stoic Saga, back from a long absence… and perhaps here to stay this time.

So lost in his own silent misery that his keen eyes and ears didn't even pick up on Qiao's footsteps until she was standing next to him, leaning on the ship railing and gazing off to a faraway place that only she could envision. Her eyes were red and half-closed.

"I don't… I don't know what to say, Arc," she said, her voice meek. "Saying sorry just seems so inadequate."

"You didn't do this, Qiao," he answered, keeping his voice low.

"You came to save me."

"We came to do a lot of things. Saving you was… convenient."

"Oh."

Arc stopped his mournful gazing long enough to look at Qiao. "That was an attempt at levity."

"Stop attempting."

Arc sighed. "I merely hope that you don't take the weight of today's outcome on your shoulders."

"Hard not to feel it. I mean, Hiccup and Astrid and Toothless and Nestor…"

"Nestor's not dead."

Qiao raised an eyebrow Arc's way. "How do you know that?'

"I know, Qiao."

"Oh, right, that Hyperion essence thing. Does that mean…?"

"He's not dead. That's all I know. It's doesn't mean he's okay." That was the truth. Hyperions shared a common essence that connected them all. Nestor didn't have a full essence, but he shared a link with Arc with only one benefit – Arc would know when his protégé's life-force winked out. It was too weak a link for Arc to trace, which meant Nestor truly was on his own.

"So Hiccup and Toothless…"

"No idea. You saw them teleport with Nestor."

Qiao took a little comfort in the ambiguity. "Alche told me once that the T-Node network was going to revolutionize the world. Instantaneous travel to anywhere with two connecting Nodes. Only a few Nodes were built before the End War, and even Alche didn't know where they were all built."

"If they are out there, I will find them." Arc sounded far more certain than he felt. He knew nothing about these T-Nodes. He had no idea where to begin his search.

"Doesn't do much for Astrid, though." Qiao sniffed once at the mention of the young Viking. "Didn't help Alche, either, but at least she deserved what she got."

"A harsh thing to say, considering your history."

"Yes, it's harsh." A glint of anger flashed in her eyes. "She had more power at her fingertips than all the warlords in China combined. And what was she going to do with it?'

"What_ was_ she going to do with it?"

Qiao had to stop and actually think about it. No answer came forth. "I don't know. A better world, I guess, if that's even possible when you're out to sell mega-powerful weapons."

"I don't buy it." Arc narrowed his brow in thought. "She could easily sell weapons with the knowledge she already possessed. Why go to the Repository?"

"Oh, that was for the zanick."

"The odd stone Hiccup took from her?" Arc suddenly reached into his mouth and plucked something out from between his teeth, using his claws as tongs. The dodecahedron, shiny with saliva, now sat in Arc's hand. "Easier than carving pockets into my scales."

"A much bigger stone than that," clarified Qiao. "I think Dark Star flew out with it."

Arc chuffed. "Can't do her any good now. I fear more what Cervantes will do with the Alchemist's leftovers."

"So what do we do now?"

Arc looked at her oddly. "We? I didn't think your involvement was necessary any longer."

"I owe you guys now," she insisted. "I owe… everyone who didn't come out of there."

Arc couldn't bring himself to smile, but he managed a nod. "Honor amongst thieves."

"It's not honor," defended Qiao. "It's decency."

Decency. There was something Arc had to eventually tell her. It would be the "decent" thing to do. But while he continued to mull over when to tell Qiao his theory about her real "heritage," this was certainly neither the time nor the place.

Eventually, though…

"So, again," said Qiao, "what do we do now?"

"We start by having you lead us to the home of your surrogate mother."

As drained as he was, Arc barely flinched when Saga sidled up between him and Qiao, the young thief jumping back a step in shock. Yet Arc did feel a seeping chill travel down his spine upon seeing Saga's eyes.

No redness, not one wet trail on her cheeks, no phlegm in her voice at all. A pure mask of ice, as cold as the Artic wind.

This was not Saga. This was all Seer… all Gunnarr. Her statement had been a command, and even Arc felt intimidated enough by those remorseless eyes that he forgot to argue with her.

"We will go there and find the ones responsible for Astrid's death," the Seer icily stated. "We will make every last one of them pay… and all those who stand with them."

* * *

Toothless came awake with clingy sand under his paws and a pervasive dryness surrounding him. A far cry from the cold, wet home he'd known for years, and it only got worse upon opening his eyes and seeing the new landscape.

Such a barren place, this new land. Rust-brown dirt covered the featureless realm, devoid of any plant life or even the remains of plant life. Powerful winds blew loose earth around, smarting the dragon's eyes. The ground felt like it hadn't felt the grace of water in years, the clouds scarce and the sun relentlessly pounding the land with sunshine.

They were alone for now, which made them safe in the sort term. In the long term…

Toothless turned to his rider, who was stretched out on the sand, unresponsive. He had slipped off the dragon at some point before Toothless had regained his senses, resting on the sand like a dead fish. Toothless nudged him once with his head, netting a slight moan from Hiccup. The poor boy stubbornly clung to unconsciousness. Perhaps the frightening, dizzying experience of light and sensation that had thrown them into this forsaken land had been harder on him than Toothless.

Or perhaps the poor boy didn't want to wake up.

Toothless felt the strain of grief in his heart. Astrid was gone, fallen into the dark cave. Family was lost today, and he hadn't been able to stop it. Neither had Nestor, though the man had tried.

Nestor.

He checked the scene once more, strained his ears to pick up the slightest noise, the merest sign of life. He heard only the constant whine of the wind. No animals in the vicinity… and no sign of Nestor. Not one footprint leading away, no indentation in the dirt where he might have rested.

Nestor had disappeared.

At a loss, confused and saddened over too many things at once, the dragon fell back to what he knew. Survival was paramount now, and Hiccup was in no condition to make decisions.

He nudged Hiccup again with no success, then studied the land to the west of his position. A small plateau stood out in the barrenness, surrounded by natural spires of shaped rock reaching up to the sky like deformed fingers, many miles away. Where there was shaped rock, there was often water – a lesson from his solitary days. Easy to reach by air…

To his dismay, he remembered the state of his tail. Hiccup had not fixed it yet. Nor could he do flying jumps with Hiccup unable to hold on. But staying here in the searing wind and merciless sun would prove to be the death of them both.

He carefully knelt down and tenderly shoved his head under Hiccup's body, moving the boy along his back to a spot where he wouldn't readily fall off. Keeping his back straight and his limping gait slow, Toothless moved off toward the plateau, his unconscious cargo bouncing and swaying to the rhythm of the dragon's steps.

Understandably distracted by other matters, the dragon failed to notice the nature of his resting place. Right underneath him had been solid rock, and one part of the rock had a shapelier contour than the rest. A crystalline pyramid with alien symbols poked out of the sedimentary material, alight with weak yellow energy, mostly obscured by accumulated sand buildup. The glow faded as Toothless walked away – by the time he'd gone twenty steps, the artifact was as lifeless as the rocks that held it prisoner.

**Definitely Not The End**


End file.
